


Obsession In Scotland

by IsolationShepherd



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Kabby, Kabby child, Loch Lomond, Modern AU, Mystery, Obsession Part Two, Scotland, Smut Sunday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2019-11-29 11:50:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 87,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18222770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsolationShepherd/pseuds/IsolationShepherd
Summary: Five and a half years after the events in Obsession Part One, Abby and Marcus are living happily in Lancashire with their son, Oliver. They head up to Scotland for their summer holiday and life is blissful until Marcus witnesses something that will change their lives forever.





	1. Time Flies

It was a bright afternoon in late July. The sun was warm, but there was a gentle breeze, so Abby was comfortable spending a few hours up on the moors with her paints. The light was too flat to get good detail, but she was experimenting with her colour palette so it didn’t matter.

Voices drifted to her on the wind; a high excited one and a deeper gruff one. She looked at her smart watch. Four o’clock, so it was them. The owner of the high voice appeared first, dark curls bouncing, cheeks flushed, chubby legs encased in shorts and dark green wellies.

“Mummy!” he shouted when he saw Abby, and he ran towards her. Abby held out her arms and he flopped into them. She kissed his sweaty head. “Hi, sweetheart. How was school?”

“Fine,” replied Oliver.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay.” Abby laughed. She held on to her son and he obliged her by sitting on her lap, although she knew it wouldn’t be for long.

A second dark head appeared over the rise, same dark curls only these were slicked back unable to escape even if they dared to try. Marcus strode towards her, swinging Oliver’s backpack.

“Hi,” he said, and he bent to kiss her before settling himself next to her.

“Hi. Ollie says he’s done nothing at school today.”

Marcus laughed. “I know. There’s a painting in his pack.” Marcus rummaged around in the bag and pulled out a piece of white paper. He handed it to Abby, who examined the long house with its many crooked windows and lollipop trees in front. Three stick figures stood to the side and an attempt had been made to add colour in the form of red blobs of paint daubed randomly. ‘Me and Mummy and Daddy by Oliver Kane’ had been written in the top corner in his teacher’s neat hand.

“That’s beautiful, darling,” she said to Oliver, and she kissed the top of his warm head. Abby had studied artistic development in children since having Oliver and knew he was advanced for his age. Only by a couple of years, but still, it made her proud that he had some of her in him, because sometimes she wondered if Marcus had made him all by himself, so alike they were.

“I don’t know why I have such a big head,” said Marcus frowning.

Abby looked at him and smiled. “Our son is a realist,” she said, and Marcus pulled a face at her. Oliver wriggled out of her arms and ran off in the direction of a bird that was hopping from rock to rock. “You’d better go after him.”

Marcus sighed, and then heaved himself up and followed his son across the moors. Abby turned back to her painting. With any luck they’d be gone just long enough for her to finish this colour wash. She was using the peat water and it stained everything a pale brown colour, making it look like an old photograph. She hadn’t got the consistency right yet, though, and often hours of meticulously painting a scene were lost when she over-stained the canvas and the landscape looked like the aftermath of nuclear fallout.

She lost track of time like she always did when she was painting and had no idea how long it had been before Marcus and Oliver appeared in front of her.

Marcus flopped onto the heather beside Abby. “Our son just called me old!” he said indignantly.

Abby turned to look at Marcus, paintbrush still in hand. “He called you what?”

“Old! I said I’d race him to mummy’s stone and he said there was no point because I was old and he’d beat me!”

“He would beat you,” said Abby with a laugh.

“When did he get so grown-up?” Marcus plucked at some heather, shaking his head.

“He’s still our baby.” Abby reached across and stroked Marcus’s cheek.

“He’s five in three weeks! Time’s moving too fast.” Marcus held the heather up in the air and let the wind take it away. He sighed as he watched it disappear on a twisting thermal.

“Remember when we first brought him home? You were so terrified you’d drop him you carried him everywhere in the car seat.” Abby smiled at the memory of an ashen-faced Marcus holding their son for the first time in trembling arms.

“He was tiny! I thought I would crush him,”

“I know, but to the kitchen, Marcus, from the living room!”

“Lots of things could have happened in between.”

“It’s a few strides.”

“I may have been a bit overprotective.” He smiled affectionately at Oliver as the boy jumped fearlessly into dark puddles of peaty water.

“My favourite memory is you googling how to change a diaper and practising endlessly on a watermelon.”

“I wanted to be perfect by the time he arrived.”

“And were you?” she asked, even though she knew the answer. Reminiscing about Oliver’s babyhood was one of their favourite things to do.

“My nappy technique was perfect. I just wasn’t fast enough.”

“When he peed in your eye!” Abby laughed hard at the memory. “Your face!”

“It was such a shock! I didn’t realise he would have such little control over himself.”

“He was two days old!”

Marcus laughed softly. “I know. Look at him now.”

Abby followed his gaze, watched as their son splashed around, already aware of which puddles were safe and which would lead to stuck legs and lost wellies.

“He survived our terrible early parenting.”

“And now he’s calling me old! Cheeky little bugger.” Marcus looked at Abby. “I blame you for his insolence.”

“Me? What have I done?”

“He has your bluntness.”

“My bluntness!” Abby nearly choked on her laughter. “He’s definitely his father’s son.”

Marcus leaned across and kissed her. “Yes, but he has your heart,” and then he jumped up and ran across to Oliver, picking him up and swinging him in the air.

“Not too old!” he shouted as the boy screamed with delight.

She watched them for a while and then she packed up her things. “Dinnertime!” she shouted, and both her boys came over to her with smiles on their faces.

They walked back to the house, Oliver running ahead with his backpack bouncing, Marcus carrying Abby’s easel, and Abby with her canvas, which she was finally pleased with.

“Last day of school tomorrow, Ollie,” said Marcus as they caught up with him at the front door but Oliver didn’t answer. He looked up at Abby with a pained expression that was so like that of his father her breath caught in her chest. Then she realised why he was looking pained. He was clutching the front of his shorts and dancing.

“He needs a pee, Marcus,” she said.

“Oh, yes.” Marcus fumbled in his pocket for his keys but obviously couldn’t find them.

“Daddy!” cried Oliver.

“Okay, okay, I have them,” he said as he finally pulled them out of the front pocket of Oliver’s backpack. “I forgot I put them there.”

He got the key in the lock and Oliver flew in ahead of him with Marcus chasing behind, having abandoned the easel to Abby. She lugged everything inside and through to her studio at the far end of the house.

Marcus was standing outside the partly-opened bathroom door as she passed.

“You were desperate a minute ago!” he was saying.

“It comes when it comes, daddy.”

Abby chuckled as she entered her studio. She set up her easel and placed the canvas on it to dry, standing back to survey it in the more diffused light that poured into the large room. She was definitely onto something with the colouring. She tidied away her paints and then left the room, locking it behind her so Oliver couldn’t get in and throw paints all around it like he had when he was two and Abby had witnessed Marcus despair for one of the few times in their relationship as he surveyed the destruction of his newly-built and decorated extension.

When Abby came out of her studio Marcus was sitting on the sofa with Oliver going through his letters, so she started dinner.

“Come and set the table, Ollie,” she shouted when the food was ready, and handed him the cutlery when he came across to her. He headed for the table, his features determined as he contemplated his favourite task. Marcus lifted him so he could reach the table to lay the forks and spoons in the right places, and Abby’s heart melted like it always did.

She set out a big bowl of pasta in tomato sauce and a salad and Marcus served them all.

“I love pasta,” said Oliver as he banged his spoon on the table.

“I know you do, sweetheart,” said Abby.

“Use your spoon to eat not make noise,” said Marcus, but Oliver ignored him.

Marcus’s lips grew thinner as he tightened his mouth, trying not to react as Oliver continued banging the spoon.

“Do as daddy says,” said Abby, but Oliver ignored her as well. This was happening more often as he tried to assert his independence. Marcus had longed for this moment during the early days when the baby was basically a food processor as he called him, but he’d imagined his son reading books and asking questions and exploring nature by himself, not banging spoons endlessly.

“You have a simple choice,” said Marcus. “You can either eat your pasta with the spoon, or you don’t get any pasta.” His hand hovered near Oliver’s bowl, but the child just stared at him, then banged his spoon.

“Okay, then,” continued Marcus. “You were warned.” He picked up the bowl and headed to the kitchen with it, followed by a small child tugging at his leg and crying, although Abby could see there were no actual tears.

“Daddy, please don’t!” Oliver wailed.

“Are you going to eat your pasta properly?”

“Yes.”

Marcus looked closely at the boy and then returned to the table, putting the bowl back down. He sat Oliver in his seat, watched him while he picked up his spoon and ate the first mouthful. “Good boy,” he said, ruffling his hair, and then he turned to Abby with a grimace.

“How many years of this do we have to put up with?” he said.

“The rest of our lives one way or another I think.”

“God.” Marcus rolled his eyes, and then smiled. “How did your painting go today?”

“Really good. I’ve found the right balance for this peat wash I’ve been trying out.”

“I noticed. I thought it looked great.”

“Thanks.” Abby pronged some celery and ate it, watching Oliver smear tomato sauce all over his mouth as he sucked some pasta down. He loved his food, just like his dad. “How was your day?”

“I whittled down some of the grant applications. There are two or three interesting ones. Will you take a look at them later?”

“Yes, of course.” He liked to get her input when he was choosing which projects his Foundation would fund that year. He was always attracted to the ones that had the most practical outcomes and Abby always liked the ones that had emotional benefits, so between them they usually came up with something that covered all the bases. “What are they about?”

Marcus told her about the projects and after dinner he cleaned up while Abby played with Oliver. They were in the middle of making a collage which mainly involved pouring glitter over everything. She had to do it in her studio because Marcus balked at the thought of glue on his beautiful wooden floor. He controlled his obsessions a lot better than when she’d first met him, but some things were still a step too far.

He put his head around the door after a while. “Time for bed,” he said, and he winked at Abby before scooping up Oliver and carrying him up the stairs before the child could protest.

“I’ll be up in a minute,” said Abby. This was part of their routine. Oliver liked to have his time alone with Marcus, being read a story, chattering about their next adventure in Scotland, and then Abby came up to tuck him in and give extra kisses and cuddles. Sometimes Marcus wanted kisses and cuddles too, and they never made it back downstairs.

She cleared their artwork away and then went upstairs. They were still taking about Scotland when she entered the room.

“Will we catch fishes, daddy?”

“Yes. We’ll go out in the boat and catch a big fish and mummy will gut it for us and cook it.”

“I will not!” said Abby. “If you’re man enough to catch it, you’re man enough to gut it yourself.”

“Daddy will cook it,” said Oliver, looking at Marcus with adoring eyes.

“I will, son, and we won’t let mummy have any, will we?” He smirked at Abby who wacked him on the arm.

“No,” said Oliver and laughed.

“That’s okay. I’ll be sitting in the Loch Lomond House Hotel eating a four-course meal.” She raised an eyebrow at Marcus who grinned.

“Okay, time for sleep, squirrel. I love you,” said Marcus.

“I love you, daddy.”

Marcus kissed Oliver’s head and then stood so Abby could take his place on the bed. She cuddled him and kissed his soft hair, breathing in its powdery scent. Nothing prepared you for the love you felt for your child, nothing. She pressed a soft kiss to his nose, then handed him his dinosaur and the squirrel Marcus had won for her years before in Blackpool; they were his favourite toys, and he wouldn’t sleep without them. “I love you so much, sweet pea. Have sweet dreams.”

“Love you, mummy,” said Oliver in a sleepy voice. Abby switched on the nightlight then followed Marcus out of the room, leaving the door ajar because Oliver didn’t like being shut in.

They crept down the stairs and flopped on the sofa. Marcus poured them both a glass of wine and Abby sipped hers.

“Are you all set for the summer school?” he said as he took a long draught of his wine.

“I need to get some more supplies tomorrow, and I thought I might as well get some groceries too.”

“I can get Alice to stock the fridge,” replied Marcus, referring to the housekeeper of their loch house.

“I like to do it myself.”

“I know. Okay.” Marcus gestured for Abby to curl into his arms, so she shifted position. “I can pick Oliver up tomorrow if you want. I should be finished at the Town Hall in time.”

“I’ll meet you when I’m finished.” Abby reached up and kissed him long on the lips.

“Mmmm,” said Marcus, and he sighed. They were both too tired to take the kiss any further. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Anything as long as it’s not Disney,” she said as he stroked her arm.

Marcus selected The African Queen with Humphrey Bogart and Katharine Hepburn which he knew was one of Abby’s favourites. Abby’s eyes started to close as Rose and Charlie puffed down the river in the eponymous boat, and before long she was fast asleep.

\---

Abby slowed the car as she neared Oliver’s school. She was late, and as usual there were no legal parking spaces left. She pulled up inside the yellow hatched zone clearly marked No Parking and waited. She didn’t dare get out of the car because as soon as she did, that crazy old coot Mr Parker would be upon her, licking his pencil before noting down the time and date in his little black book. He had no legal authority but that didn’t stop him from telling her she was endangering herself and all the children and parents and probably all the future children that were mere twinkles in their parents’ eyes. She ignored him mostly, but sometimes he was lucky enough to summon a Traffic Warden and if she’d left the car to fetch her son she’d return to a yellow and black parking notice stuck to the window and have to pay a fine.

She could see Marcus at the school gate, so there was no need to abandon her car to its fate. He stood apart from the other parents, mainly mothers, his hands behind his back, fingers fidgeting. The women were huddled together, talking, gossiping probably, judging from the pained expression on Marcus’s face. He loved picking Oliver up from school but hated having to partake in the conversations. He wasn’t interested in anyone else’s child except his own, complained to Abby frequently about the inane chatter he had to listen to. Abby didn’t find it much easier herself, but she was better at hiding it than Marcus. His face gave his every thought away.

She watched as one of the women turned to him and spoke, saw his frown, the shrug of his broad shoulders, and then he turned away. The woman went back to her friends, rolled her eyes and copied Marcus’s shrug. The women all looked at him then returned to their huddle. He stood straighter, moved his arms to his sides, and she knew he was blocking them out. She sent him a text.

_I’m here but I’m being naughty x. Hope Mr Parker isn’t around!_

Marcus pulled his phone from his pocket, glanced at it, then turned and looked around, spotting her and smiling. His shoulders dropped in relief. His thumbs moved quickly over the screen of his phone and a second later Abby got the text.

_Naughty girl! Glad you’re here xx Haven’t seen him._

Abby smiled at him. The school bell rang and Marcus turned his focus on the yard. Oliver ran out like he always did, his dark hair flopping into his eyes; he seemed to live his life at full pelt, never stopping. He ran into Marcus’s arms and was scooped up and spun around before being planted back on the ground. Marcus took his hand and led him across the road to Abby.

“Hi, sweetheart,” said Abby as Marcus fastened Oliver into his car seat.

“Hi,” said Marcus as he always did.

“Not you, daddy!” said Oliver, laughing as though it was the first time they’d made this joke together.

“I can’t be mummy’s sweetheart?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Marcus pulled a face at Oliver then went around to the passenger side and slid into the seat next to Abby. He leaned across and kissed her.

“Hi,” he said with a grin.

“Hi. How was the Town Hall?”

“Fine.” Marcus turned to look at Oliver as Abby pulled into the road and set off for home. “How was school, Ollie?”

“Fine,” said Oliver, and Abby shook her head in amusement as Marcus turned back to look at her, satisfied with the one-word answer as usual.

“Did you get everything you needed?”

“Yes. I got more art supplies and I have enough groceries to see us through the first couple of days.”

“Good.” Marcus turned back to Oliver. “You ready for some fun in Scotland?”

“Are we going there now?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Okay.”

In the rear-view mirror Abby could see Oliver pull his dinosaur out of his school bag so she knew that was the end of that conversation. He’d be excited once they got there.

“Summer here we come!” said Marcus and he sat back in his seat with a smile on his face as Abby sped through the countryside to their house on the Lancashire moors.

\---

They spent the early evening preparing for their visit to the house on the shores of Loch Lomond. Abby had started a retreat for budding artists a couple of years before and they spent the long summer holidays up at the house, Marcus working as little as possible and spending his time outdoors with Oliver, Abby teaching her four-week long summer school before spending the last two weeks with her family. It was her favourite time of year. She loved teaching and sharing her skills, and then having two weeks of bliss with the men in her life.

She was loading up the Land Rover with her art supplies when Marcus and Oliver came out laden with items. Abby surveyed the load with despair.

“You don’t need to take your butterfly net, Ollie. You have one at the house.”

“I told him that, but he wants this particular one,” said Marcus.

Abby looked through the objects that were weighing Marcus down. “You have exactly the same bug jars and caterpillar binoculars in Scotland as well.”

“These are the ones I want, mummy.”

“We don’t have room for them, sweetheart.”

Oliver looked up at her through long eyelashes that were one of the few things of hers he’d inherited, his lips set in a pout, and Abby was reminded once again why Marcus always gave in to her eventually; it was a look daring the receiver to say no. Few people could resist such a look, not even the once cold and distant Marcus Kane.

Abby sighed. “They’ll have to go on the seat next to you.”

“Okay,” said Oliver, and then he ran back to the house.

Marcus looked at Abby, smiled and shrugged, before handing the equipment to her and following his son. Abby stood for a moment, her arms full of unnecessary stuff, and then she gave in and tucked them into various nooks and crannies in the car so she’d have room for their groceries and suitcases and half the household they seemed to take with them every time. You would not think they had a fully-stocked house with duplicate everything. There were certain things Marcus had to take, and certain things Oliver had to take, and Abby couldn’t exempt herself because so far most of what was filling the car was hers.

She returned to the house and gathered up the laundry, taking it upstairs to distribute amongst the various family members. Marcus was sitting on Oliver’s bed, watching with a dismayed look as the boy pulled every item of clothing he owned from his drawers. Marcus had read extensively about what to expect at each stage of a child’s development and was trying to encourage Oliver to choose his own clothing. This strategy was testing his patience and his obsession with neatness to the limit.

“I don’t think you need that many t-shirts, Ollie,” he was saying as Abby brought some clean clothes into the room. “You know you’re going to live in the same one the entire time.”

“I want this one, and this one, and this one.” Oliver flung more shirts on the floor and Marcus bent down to pick them up and fold them neatly.

“You can choose two to take with you. You have more clothes at the house.” Marcus laid the shirts out on the bed and Oliver agonised for ages over which ones to take before finally deciding on his Olliesaurus Rex t-shirt that Marcus had ordered specially for him, and thought was a great joke, and his shirt with Simba from The Lion King, which was his current obsession.

“Great choices, son. Why don’t you go and help mummy put those clothes away while I finish packing,” said Marcus, before mouthing ‘please take him!’ to Abby.

“Don’t forget to pack his underpants this time,” said Abby with a smile.

“I’ll remember.” Marcus laughed, and shooed her and Oliver out of the room.

Abby waited patiently while Oliver placed the freshly-laundered clothes into her suitcase more carefully than he’d done with his own things. She tried to tell herself she had the magic touch with him, but he was probably just getting tired and not as inclined to misbehave.

They put him to bed in the usual way and spent a couple of hours looking through the grant applications before getting ready for bed themselves as they wanted to get an early start the next day.

“So, are you excited about tomorrow?” said Marcus as he got in bed next to Abby.

“Not as excited as you are.” Abby rolled over so she could lie in the crook of Marcus’s arm.

“I’m ready for some quality time with my boy.”

Abby lifted her head to look at him, a mock pout on her lips. “What about with me?”

Marcus smiled at her. “Always.” He dipped his head and kissed her softly, then he sighed. “I’m exhausted all the time.”

“You’ve been doing too much lately.”

“I know, but the new community centre has been a ball ache. Caroline blocks me at every turn.”

“She does it on purpose,” said Abby with a growl.

“It’s not my fault she chose to entangle herself with Jaha.”

“I know that, but you know she blames you for him being arrested.”

“I merely let the police investigation take its course.” Marcus’s fingers gripped Abby tight as he spoke about his ex-wife and her husband who was languishing in the prison Marcus used to govern. He let Caroline wind him up too easily. Abby could feel his heart beating fast and she knew if she looked up at him his face would be contorted as he replayed arguments with Caroline in his mind.

“You know my thoughts on Caroline. She’s done pretty well out of being a jailhouse widow. She married him at the right time, manages his affairs now he’s locked up, got his Councillor position. A cynical person might think it was all planned.”

“But you’re not a cynical person,” replied Marcus with a smile.

“Let’s not think about them,” Abby said as she stroked his bare chest. “This time tomorrow we’ll be at the loch and none of this will matter.”

“Hmm,” said Marcus, “you’re right.”

Abby could tell from his tone that he was merely appeasing her. He might be two hundred miles away for the next few weeks but he’d still be working, still dealing with these problems in between spending time with Oliver. There was never a complete break.

“How exhausted are you?” said Abby as she ran her fingers through the sparse hairs on Marcus’s chest, circling his nipple, pinching it, so he could be in no doubt as to her intentions.

Marcus groaned. “If you do all the work...” he murmured.

Abby rolled on top of him, leant forward and captured his lips in a long kiss. His cock swelled between her legs and she smiled as she kissed him. He was rarely too exhausted for this. She undressed them both, stretching up to remove her slip and give him a long look at his favourite view. His hands reached up to caress her breasts, thumbs rubbing across her nipples. Abby groaned.

She planted her hands either side of his chest so she could rub herself along his length. He was fully hard now, the tip of his cock nudging against her lips and she adjusted her position so he slid inside her, just a little way, and then she rocked so he slid back out. She teased him this way until he was moaning, begging her to let him all the way in. His hands grabbed her arse, tried to control her movements but she resisted, until at last she gave in because she couldn’t wait herself anymore, and sank down on his shaft. They both let out deep sighs.

Abby sat back, her hands on his thighs so she could slide up and down his cock and he could circle her clit with his thumb.

“Oh, this is good,” said Marcus. “This is what I needed.”

Abby started to increase her speed, her eyes were closed, and she was getting close to her release when the door to their bedroom creaked open. She fell forward onto Marcus’s chest and he covered them quickly with the sheet.

“I can’t sleep, mummy,” said Oliver as he came into the room clutching his dinosaur and squirrel.

“Have you tried?” said Marcus, in a desperate voice.

“Yes.”

“Go and try again.”

“Marcus!” Abby swatted his chest, even though she felt exactly the same. Marcus looked at her with a pained expression.

“I want to sleep with you and mummy,” said Oliver, looking up at Marcus with wide, dark eyes.

Marcus sighed. Abby eased herself off his softening cock and hunted beneath the sheets for her underwear.

“They’re on the floor,” said Marcus, and he reached down and handed Abby her knickers and slip before pulling on his shorts under cover of the bedsheet. “Just this once,” he said to Oliver for about the thousandth time since their son learned how to walk.

Oliver clambered onto the bed and Abby held the cover open for him to crawl beneath. He lay between them, his dinosaur gripped in one tiny hand, his squirrel in the other. Marcus pressed a kiss to his head. “I love you, son,” he said, “even though your timing is terrible.”

Abby laughed and Oliver frowned at her. “Night baby,” she said, and he smiled and closed his eyes, happy that he’d got his way as usual.

“That thing is going to get stuck up my arse before morning,” whispered Marcus, indicating the dinosaur.

Abby’s shoulders heaved with silent laughter. Marcus shook his head.

“He’s always like this the night before we go to Scotland,” said Abby as she pulled the cover tighter over them all.

“I think he gets anxious about it; the journey maybe or the change?”

“Perhaps we should stop telling him until we’re ready to set off?”

“Would that be worse, though? Not having time to adjust to it?”

“I don’t know.”

The many parenting books Abby and Marcus had both read since they’d found out she was pregnant hadn’t prepared them for the realities of having a child, and five years of practising hadn’t made them feel any more at ease. Abby was grateful every day that they hadn’t managed to kill him, and Marcus agonised over the impact of their decisions on his future happiness.

“He’ll be fine once we’re there,” said Marcus.

“We all will.”

Abby leaned across their sleeping child and kissed Marcus. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Tomorrow night we’re locking him in his room.” Marcus rolled his eyes, and then he turned over because he never slept well on his right side since he was stabbed. Oliver turned as well, his dinosaur falling from his grasp. Abby removed it and placed it on her bedside table so there was no chance of Marcus rolling onto it like he had a few months ago, waking them all up with his yelp of pain. She turned back and watched her sleeping son and husband, like two peas in a pod. She couldn’t wait to get up to the loch with them tomorrow, where she felt free.


	2. Take The High Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Kanes head for their home on the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond.

Abby’s heart lifted as she turned off the A82 from Glasgow and onto the road that led up the far side of the loch. The traffic had been horrendous from Lancaster, with every car seeming to be full of people going on holiday judging by the rear windows obscured by bags and beach balls, and the sports equipment tied to the roof racks. Thankfully, most of them continued on the A82 to Luss and the more touristy side of Loch Lomond. The Kane house was on the quiet side, nestled on the edge of the loch in the shadow of its famous mountain, Ben Lomond.

The road followed the loch side and it was a beautiful, windless day. The water was still as glass, its surface broken only by the v-trails of ducks as they glided lazily around seemingly without purpose. Oliver was straining in his car seat to get as close to the window as he could.

“Ducks!” he said as a small group floated by.

“Lots of ducks,” said Marcus. “Mallards, mainly.” He too was looking out of the window. He was dressed casually in a grey t-shirt and black jeans, his dark hair freed from the gel, but cut neatly by Abby at his request so it couldn’t flop in his eyes. It would be long by the end of the six weeks, hopefully. Abby liked it when his curls grew in and he looked relaxed and carefree. Her own hair was tied in a loose ponytail and she was wearing grey jeans and a blue top. The day was warm, and she had her window open to create a light breeze as they sped along the road. Not long now, she thought, as she rounded each familiar bend, passed the landmarks that counted down the miles to their journey’s end.

She turned the final corner and there it was, their beautiful house with its glass façade and white stone walls. She got a shiver as she saw it, like she always did. She pressed a button on the dash of her car and the wooden gate swung open. She pulled up outside the front door.

“We’re here!” shouted Oliver, and he banged on the car door, anxious to be let out.

“We’re here,” said Marcus softly, and he looked at Abby with warm eyes. This was where she’d told him she was pregnant, where she’d asked him to marry her, before there was a house, when there were only dreams. It was always a special moment between them when they arrived.

“We are,” said Abby, and she leaned across to kiss him.

“Daddy! Let me out!” cried Oliver, who was oblivious to the significance of the house and land. To him it was just a huge playground. It was that to Abby and Marcus too, if she were honest.

“Okay, I’m coming!” Marcus got out of the car and opened Oliver’s door, unfastening his belt and lifting him out. The boy immediately ran around the front garden, whooping and laughing, delighted to be free from the confines of his car seat. “I think we should do that,” Marcus said, and he scooped Abby up and chased Oliver round the garden with her in his arms.

“Let me down, you idiot,” Abby said but she was laughing.

“Last one to the door has to bring in all the stuff,” said Marcus, and he set her down before racing away, fumbling in his pocket for his keys as he went. Abby didn’t even try to follow; he had too much of a head start.

“I guess it makes sense seeing as I packed it all by myself,” she said standing with her hands on her hips. Marcus grinned at her, then let himself and Oliver into the house. They reappeared a minute later as Abby was pulling Oliver’s things from the back seat.

“We’re helping, mummy,” said Oliver, and he held his arms out so Abby could put his butterfly net into them.

“Thank you, darling. Take that into your bedroom.”

He came in and out of the house, taking small things with him to his room. Marcus helped Abby unload the car and it wasn’t long before they were sitting out on the wooden deck that overhung the loch, a glass of wine in hand, Oliver playing in his sandbox, chattering to himself as he invented a game between his dinosaurs that seemed to involve them bashing into each other all the time.

“This is the life.” Abby clinked her glass against Marcus’s.

“Aye. Hope the weather stays like this.”

“Fat chance,” said Abby who had become used to the vagaries of the Scottish weather system, which could cycle through many seasons within the same day.

“We’ll enjoy it while it lasts.” Marcus had put on grey shorts the minute they’d finished unpacking and he was stretched out bare-legged and footed on the sun lounger. Abby had changed into a cream sundress and she hitched it above her knees, let the sun get to her bare skin. She’d paled significantly since being in the UK, even though she spent a lot of time outdoors, and she liked to get the sun on her at every opportunity. She didn’t feel Californian without a tan, and no matter how much she loved being in this country, she wasn’t ready to let go of her heritage completely.

“Nice,” said Marcus, nodding approvingly at her bare legs.

“Yeah?” Abby hitched the dress further, giving him a glimpse of toned thigh.

“Mmmm.” Marcus reached across, stroked her thigh, his fingers creeping round to the inside. Abby shifted so her legs opened wider, her eyes on an oblivious Oliver as Marcus probed higher, fingertips skirting the elastic of her knickers. Abby took a deep breath as they slipped beneath the material, stroked her lips, pressed between them. She swallowed a moan.

Marcus stroked her a couple of times, and then he groaned and removed his fingers, prompting a groan from Abby that she couldn’t hide. She smoothed her dress down as Oliver turned to look at her then turned back to his play when he saw she was smiling. Six years ago she and Marcus would have been devouring each other by now, but their lives had changed.

“Later,” whispered Marcus as he looked at her with lustful eyes.

“Later.” Abby stared back and they held each other’s gaze. In many ways this was better, being thwarted; it led to anticipation, to thoughts about what they would do to each other when they were alone. Abby was throbbing with the memory of his touch, and the promise of what was to come. Marcus was the same judging by the bulge in his shorts.  

Oliver broke the spell by coming over to Abby and holding his dinosaur out to her. “Saur has something to tell you,” he said solemnly.

“What’s that?”

“He has a booboo.”

“Oh, dear. Where’s his booboo?”

Oliver pointed to the dinosaur’s snout, and Abby bent towards it and kissed it. “Is that better?”

Oliver nodded and then he held his arms out to be lifted onto Abby’s lap. She cuddled him, pressed kisses to his head.

“Daddy has a booboo,” said Marcus with a raise of his eyebrows.

“Daddy can kiss his own booboo,” said Abby with a withering look in his direction.

“If only.” Marcus laughed and Abby shook her head and rolled her eyes.

“You can kiss daddy’s booboo, mummy,” said Oliver, looking up at Abby with wide eyes.

“I’ll kiss it later, sweetheart. Right now, I think we need to get you something to eat.”

She handed Oliver to Marcus, who was still grinning at his own joke, and went into the kitchen to prepare his meal. She hoped Oliver would stay in his bed tonight, because she was wound up now, and there was only one way to relieve it. Marcus could take him on a walk before bed, tire him out, that ought to do it.

\---

That evening, Abby stood in the doorway of Oliver’s bedroom, watching him sleep. He was dead to the world, exhausted by his walk along the shore with Marcus. Fingers crossed he would stay that way. She went into the kitchen where Marcus was standing at the huge kitchen island made from grey granite. A pan was puffing steam into the air and he was slicing beef tomatoes. Abby came up behind him, put her arms around him.

“What are we having?”

“Insalata caprese,” he said in a fake Italian accent, “followed by Tortellini panna e prosciutto.”

“Smells wonderful.” Abby laid her head against his strong back, felt the rise and fall of his breathing. Marcus put a hand on hers where it lay against his belly.

“Are you hungry?” he said.

“Mmmm. Not just for food.” Abby nuzzled his back. Marcus turned, knife dripping tomato juice in hand, and bent his head so she could kiss him. He put his other hand in the small of her back, pressed her to him.

“I’m feeding you first. Build up your energy levels.” He smiled, kissed her, then turned back to his preparations.

Abby got a cloth and wiped up the spills from his knife then she wandered out onto the deck. Marcus had set the table like in a restaurant, with a crisp white tablecloth, napkins, their art deco cutlery and candles. She poured them both a glass of wine, then stood at the balcony and looked over the loch. It was eight o’clock but still light. The sun wouldn’t set for a couple of hours yet, and then it would be up again by four. The light was softer, though, more diffuse. It picked out the crevices on the hill opposite, highlighted its contours, its bones. She couldn’t wait to start the summer school on Monday, introduce a whole new set of students to this beautiful landscape.

“Dinner is served,” said Marcus from behind her and she turned to see him setting two plates of salad on the table. He held a chair out for Abby to sit in and then pressed a button on a small remote control before sitting down himself. Chopin’s Nocturnes drifted out from the retro turntable she’d bought him for Christmas. Abby recognised the recording because she was well versed in classical music after six years together, and this was one of Marcus’s favourites. He always put it on when he was feeling romantic.

“Happy holidays, Mrs Kane,” he said, and he held his glass towards hers.

“May the sun always shine, and the midges stay away,” said Abby with a smile, and she clinked her glass against his.

“You look beautiful,” he said, casting an admiring glance over Abby’s red dress that was low-cut and revealing.

“Not bad for an old lady.”

Marcus shook his head. “You’ll never age, and you’ll never be as old as me.”

“You’re not old.” This was a theme with Marcus lately. He turned forty-nine in two months, only a year from fifty as he kept reminding Abby, and since he’d become a father he’d felt his age, was obsessed with how old he’d be when Oliver was ten, or twenty, whether he’d see him married or with children of his own. Abby was only two years younger than Marcus but she didn’t have the same concerns; she lived each day as it came, enjoyed the here and now with their son. She tried to help Marcus see it the same way, but it was a slow process. The behavioural therapist he had been seeing since Oliver was born said it was only natural to feel this way, that children made you think about your own mortality, but Abby thought this only encouraged Marcus’s negative thinking.

“I feel it sometimes.” Marcus pronged some mozzarella and tomato and looked at her as he ate it.

“You tired your nearly-five-year-old bundle of energy out today.”

“That’s true.” He smiled and took a swig of his wine. “And I’m going to tire you out later.”

“Oh, really?” Abby threw him a mock sceptical look.

“Yes, I have plans for you.” He looked at her smugly and Abby’s heart skipped a few beats.

“Can’t wait,” she said. She bit into a tomato and it burst its sun-ripened juice into her mouth. “This is amazing,” she said. “If there was no other reason I’d love you for your cooking.”

“I hope there are more reasons than that.”

“One or two.”

“Such as?”

“Are you fishing for compliments?”

“Maybe.” Marcus sat back, regarded her coolly.

“Hmm, okay. Let me think.” Abby put on a pensive look, as though she had to think really hard about the things she loved most about him.

“You have to think?” Marcus pretended to be shocked. Abby ignored him.

“You’re a wonderful father. Our son adores you.”

“He’s a joy.”

“Yes.” They smiled at each other, proud as always of their creation.

“What else?”

“You’re really sexy in that black sweater.”

“I know you like it.” Marcus sat straighter again so he could take another sip of his wine.

“I do.” Abby took a sip of her own wine, staring at Marcus who held her gaze. Her heart rate was rising beneath his dark-eyed stare. “I love how you love me,” she said in a low voice.

Marcus leaned closer. “You mean in the bedroom?” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“No, I mean your love for me. It’s honest, and straightforward, and I trust it completely. You make me feel secure and protected, but also free, and sexy. I feel like I can do anything or be anything with you by my side.”

Marcus reached across, took her hand in his. “You can do anything with or without me.”

“I wouldn’t want to. You and Oliver are everything to me.”

Marcus kissed her hand. “I love you so much.”

“I love you more.”

“Not possible.”

Abby smiled. “And I suppose I have to admit you are reasonably good in the bedroom.”

Marcus looked shocked. “Reasonably good?”

Abby merely raised one perfectly arched eyebrow.

“I’ll have to make an extra effort tonight then, raise my game.”

“I’m looking forward to judging your performance.”

“Marks out of ten?”

Abby nodded. “Marks out of ten.”

Marcus poured more wine into Abby’s glass. “Better get you drunk, then, so you’ll go easier on me.”

“I never go easy on you.”

“That’s why I love you.”

His gaze was full of his warm, easy love, and Abby basked in it. She knew they were smug, probably impossibly so to other people if they were ever to witness these moments between them, but she didn’t care. They’d earned the right to be happy, because of what they’d been through before they met each other, and what they’d experienced since. They’d both been seriously injured in the past, Marcus only moments from death at one point, and Abby had been carrying Oliver when she was thrown around and stabbed, although she hadn’t known it at the time. They’d awaited his birth with a mixture of joy and trepidation, and when he was born perfect in every way it had felt like a gift, a second chance at life, at love, at happiness. They didn’t take each other for granted, and she hoped they never would.

“I need to check on the main course,” said Marcus and he gathered their plates together. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“I’m right here.”

She watched as he disappeared into the kitchen, the percussive sound of pots banging and crockery clattering forming a background to his tuneful humming as he prepared the next meal. Apart from when he was with her and Oliver, he was happiest when he was in the kitchen. He mostly followed traditional recipes but lately he’d started experimenting at the request of his therapist, who was encouraging him to be less rigid. This had led to some amazing discoveries and some truly awful inventions that had gone into the food waste after one bite. Abby liked to think she was adventurous, but even she couldn’t stomach the mac and cheese grilled sandwich he’d served her one time for lunch. It was like eating the worms she’d once caught Oliver dangling above his open mouth. She had no idea if that was the first time he’d tried that delicacy, or just the first time she’d caught him. She didn’t like to think about it and could never eat mac and cheese again either. Marcus had enjoyed it, but then she’d learned that Glaswegians put mac and cheese in pies, along with pretty much anything else, so he was inoculated against its disgustingness. She couldn’t remember what he’d said the main course was; hopefully not worms or macaroni.

Marcus returned a couple of minutes later with two steaming bowls of tortellini pasta in a creamy sauce with what looked like ham. The smell as he set it down in front of her made her stomach growl even though she’d just eaten the salad.

“Wow, this looks great!”

“Indulgent,” he said, “but it’s our holiday, and we can work the calories off later.”

“If you cook like this every night we won’t be able to fit into the car when we go home.” She ate a spoonful and moaned. “God, this is delicious!”

“I made the pasta myself,” Marcus said proudly.

“I may keep you around for a few more years yet.” Abby grinned at him and he returned the smile. They had a deal that during the first four weeks of their summer holiday Marcus did all the cooking while Abby was busy with the art school, and each thought they were getting the better part of the deal.

Marcus kept looking at her as he ate his food and Abby had the feeling he was working up to saying something. She waited, and after a minute he spoke.

“What if we never went home? Have you ever thought about that?”

Abby sat back, surprised at his question. “Living here permanently? At the loch house?” Marcus nodded. “I don’t know. Is it something you’ve been thinking about?”

“A little. We’re so happy when we’re here, I just wonder why we don’t make it a permanent move sometimes.”

“We’re happy at home too, though, aren’t we?” Abby was alarmed at his train of thought.

“Oh, yes, yes, of course we are. It’s just. I don’t know.”

Abby stroked his hand where it was resting on the table. “You often get like this when we first arrive. It’s because you’re relaxing, your worries are lessened up here.”

He sighed. “It would be nice not to have any worries at all.”

“You’d be bored in five minutes.”

Marcus gave a small laugh. “True.”

Abby studied him. Staying here permanently wasn’t something she’d ever considered. She was happy in Lancashire. Oliver had started at a good local school, she had a beautiful place to paint, and they had a lovely home, a great life. She’d thought Marcus was happy, that he’d found the right balance between work and being a father and husband, but maybe he hadn’t. He had taken on a lot lately, and these battles with his ex-wife didn’t help.

“Let’s think about it while we’re here. We can talk after the summer school is over, when I have time.”

“Really?” He looked at her with hopeful eyes.

“Yes. There’s no harm in discussing it.”

“okay.” He smiled to himself as he ate the rest of his meal. Abby hoped he wasn’t thinking this was a done deal, because she’d only agreed to talk about it. Abby changed the subject to Oliver to lighten the mood and they talked about him while they let their dinner digest.

Marcus tidied the plates away and Abby stood at the balcony, drink in hand, and watched the ripples playing across the water. Marcus came up behind her, slipped his arms around her, caressing her belly. Abby leaned back, rested her head against his chest.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi.” He pressed a kiss to her neck where it was bared to him.

“Mmm,” said Abby, and she stretched in his arms. “Am I allowed to know what plans you have for me later?”

“I don’t know if I should tell you. I’d rather you were in a state of anticipation.”

“I’ve been in that state since we were interrupted last night!”

“I noticed earlier.”

Abby shivered at the memory of his fingers stroking her sex. She pressed back against him. “You’ll find I’m still as you left me.”

“Will I?” He let his hand drop from her belly to the hem of her dress, fingers sliding beneath it, up her thigh to her underwear.

“Yes,” Abby whispered on a sigh, as he slipped beneath the silk, long fingers splitting her lips apart, finding her wetness, gliding through it.

“You _are_ wet.” He found her clit, circled it.

“I want you.”

“Soon,” he said, and he brought his other hand to her breast, cupping it through her dress.

“What will you do?” Abby circled her hips so his fingers rubbed her entire sex, and she could grind against his cock, which was pressing into her arse.

“It involves your favourite part of me,” he whispered in her ear.

“I should hope it does!” said Abby, and she ground against him harder.

“Not that part, your other favourite part.”

Abby frowned as she thought for a second. “Oh. Oh! Well, I always enjoy that part.”

“And I will also say that dessert will be deconstructed, and served in the bedroom.” He pressed harder on her sex, ran his fingers over her lips and round her clit time and again.

Abby stopped moving. She cricked her neck so she could see him. He was smirking at her. “What?”

“You’ll see.” He slipped his hand inside her dress, pinched her nipple and Abby let out a cry. His stroking of her sex was making her hot all over, and she was so ready for a release, so pent up since the previous day, that she came hard and fast, her body throbbing with pleasure.

Marcus held her tight, his lips in her hair. “Love you,” he whispered.

Abby didn’t respond. Her head was buzzing and her limbs were warm and liquid. She leaned back against him, and they stood like that, looking over the loch, watching the birds jostle for space, getting ready for their evening roost. Somewhere a snipe chittered, a sound Abby was familiar with from around their Lancashire home.

“Are you ready for dessert?” Marcus said after they’d stood peacefully for a while.

“I can’t wait.”

He led Abby into their bedroom, which was off one end of the balcony, positioned her next to the bed and then stood before her. He leaned in, and Abby thought he was going to kiss her, but he reached behind and eased the zip of her dress down. He put his hands on her shoulders, let his fingers play over her skin, softly, so it brought goosebumps to the surface. He pulled the straps down and the dress floated to the floor. Abby stepped out of it. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and her breasts were freed to the cooling night air. They were a size bigger since having Oliver, a fact which had delighted Marcus. He ran a finger down over the swell of her breast to the tip of her nipple, and Abby moaned.

“What are you going to do?” she whispered.

“Patience.”

Both hands were on her now, tracing the same patterns over each breast, and then he ran the backs of his fingers down her sides, fingernails scraping softly against her skin, into the hollow above her hips, where she was ticklish. Her muscles contracted involuntarily, and Marcus smiled. He loved doing that to her, because it was on the cusp of pleasure and pain and made her suck her breath through her teeth.

He hooked his thumbs into her knickers, eased them down her thighs until they fell to the floor and Abby kicked them away too. Marcus appraised her while she stood naked before him, shook his head as he looked her up and down.

“So damned beautiful,” he said, and Abby’s sex pulsed as it always did beneath his desiring gaze.

“What now?”

“Now you can undress me.”

Abby took her time with him, unfastening his belt slowly, teasing the button on his jeans out, dragging his zip down carefully. She tugged the pants over his slim hips, bent so she could ease them down his long, muscled legs. His cock was tenting his black boxers but she ignored it for the time being.

“Lift your arms,” she whispered, and Marcus did as she asked. She pulled his black sweater up over his torso, and he helped her get it over his arms because she wasn’t tall enough to do it herself. She bent to kiss his chest, but he pushed her gently away.

“No kisses yet.”

God, what did he have planned? Abby ran her fingers over his body like he had done to her, following the sparse trail of hairs to the waistband of his shorts. She reached in and grabbed his cock, pulling it out and stroking it a couple of times. Marcus pulled down his pants, stepped out of them. He stood looking at her.

Abby’s heart was beating so fast with anticipation and blood was swelling her clit, making it throb.

“Lie on the bed,” said Marcus.

Abby sat on the bed, swung her legs up and lay back, looking at him, desperate now for him to do whatever it was, or to touch her, kiss her, something.

“I won’t be a minute,” he said.

“What?” cried Abby as he left the room. He didn’t answer. She lay on the bed, looking out of the huge open patio window at the loch and the hills. Where the hell had Marcus gone?

A minute went by and then he returned, carrying a tray of various items.

“What on earth?” Abby surveyed the small bowls of fruit and cream and something that looked like oats but she wasn’t sure.

“I’m having my dessert,” said Marcus and he pulled a small table across to the bed and set the tray on it. He climbed onto the bed, sat on his heels observing Abby.

“We’re going to eat dessert while we’re naked on the bed?” Abby laughed. Marcus didn’t like eating in bed as a general rule, so this was fairly new. Part of his therapy, perhaps, although why they had to be naked she didn’t know.

“You’re not eating dessert. Not yet at least. I’m having it, but I have to make it first.”

Abby was thoroughly confused now, and then it all became clear when Marcus took up a spoon, dipped it into the bowl of cream, and held the spoon over her breast, until the soft cream slid off and landed on her nipple. It was cold and made Abby jump.

“Ah!” she said, as both exclamation at the cold and recognition of what he wanted to do.

“It’s deconstructed, remember.”

Abby lay back and watched as he leaned in and licked the cream off her breast. They’d never done anything like this before, because Marcus could never have contemplated the mess it would make. She wanted to ask him about it, but it would spoil the mood, and whatever had sparked this adventurousness, she was going to enjoy it. He sucked her nipple, making her moan, and then he did the same to the other breast, a drop of cream, licking it, sucking at her until she was clean. It was hotter than it ought to be, just the fact that he was doing it, that he was challenging himself. It made Abby hot and melt with her love for him at the same time.

“What’s next?” she murmured.

“Meringue.” He balanced a broken piece of meringue on her bellybutton and Abby laughed so much at the sight it kept falling off.

“Stop laughing!” said an exasperated Marcus.

“I can’t help it.”

He tried again but the more Abby tried not to laugh, the more her body shook with mirth. Marcus put his hands on his hips and frowned at her.

“Sorry,” said Abby. “I’ll be good.”

Marcus tried again, and Abby closed her eyes so she couldn’t see what he was doing. She felt his lips on her belly, pressing soft kisses to her skin. He paused at her bellybutton, presumably to suck up the meringue, and then he continued lower, kissing her groin, nosing into the neat hairs above her sex. Abby tensed, waiting for him to go lower, but he didn’t.

She opened her eyes. He was grinning at her.

“You bastard,” she said, mock-glowering at him.

He looked at her coolly, then reached across to the tray. “Fruit next. A big, fat, juicy Scottish raspberry.” He dangled the fruit in front of her mouth and Abby leaned forward to take it, but Marcus popped it into his own mouth before she reached it. “Mmm. All the juices are flowing around my mouth.” He smirked, and Abby glowered again, less in jest this time.

“There won’t be any other juices flowing in your mouth tonight if I don’t get a raspberry,” she said.

“As you’ve been a good girl, I suppose you could have a treat.” Marcus dipped a raspberry in the cream and the oats and then dangled it in front of her again. Abby wasn’t falling for that twice. She didn’t move. “Don’t you trust me?” said Marcus.

“No.”

“You can. I promise.”

Abby leaned forward and Marcus popped the raspberry into her mouth. It was full of sunshine and the warmth of the whisky-soaked oats as she bit into it. “That’s delicious.”

“You can have more later.” He got another spoon and sprinkled a line of the oats down her stomach, before chasing them with his tongue. He stopped again just before he reached her sex.

“You’re killing me,” said Abby, who was desperate for his tongue on that part of her now.

“There is one final ingredient.” Marcus picked up a bottle, shook it a couple of times, then squirted a warm, red liquid on her. He was liberal with it, starting on her chest, rounding both breasts, and then making a line down her stomach, over her groin to her sex. “Spread your legs,” he said, and Abby let them fall open. The sauce dripped between her legs, onto her lips, down her thighs. He was surely going to go where she wanted him now.

“Raspberry coulis,” he said, and then he leant over her, ran his tongue over the trails, making his way slowly down her body. Abby arched her back as he got closer and closer to her sex. She was throbbing now with anticipation.

“Yes!” she said, as his tongue delicately probed the folds of her sex, seeking out the sauce.

“I think some has dripped inside you,” he murmured, his face buried in her.

“You’d better find it, then.” Abby opened her legs wider, let him access her better.

Marcus put his thumbs on her lips, spread them, licked her gently. His tongue dipped inside her, lapping at her entrance. Abby groaned. He licked her, sucked at her lips, ran his tongue around her, up to her clit, circling it until she was breathing heavily, and her legs were starting to shake. She came with a cry, and he licked her until she was spent. He sat back on his heels and regarded her.

“I enjoyed my dessert,” he said with a smile.

“I did too,” breathed Abby, and she dragged herself up. “Is it my turn now?”

“Are you hungry?”

“Definitely.”

“You have the same ingredients.” Marcus gestured to the bowls.

“Does that mean I have to be more creative, though? I can’t just repeat what you’ve done.”

“I’m a simple guy.” Marcus stretched out on the bed next to Abby and looked up at her with twinkling eyes. She regarded him for a moment, and then got off the bed. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll be back.” She disappeared without another word and went into the kitchen, rummaging around in a drawer for what she wanted.

When she returned she got onto the bed, settled herself between Marcus’s legs and leaned forward. “Close your eyes,” she said, and he looked at her for a long moment before doing as she asked. Abby put a folded cloth over his eyes, lifted his head so she could tie it behind the back.

“Hey! What’s this?” Marcus put his hands to the tie but Abby pulled them away.

“It will be better this way. Trust me.”

His cock pushed at her belly as she said those words, and she sat back and regarded him with a smile, before settling down to her task. She’d decided to tease him a little so he wouldn’t know immediately what she was doing. She moved up his body, straddled his chest, one leg bent so her sex was tantalisingly close to his face. She trailed a finger over his lips, pulling the bottom one down a little.

With her other hand she picked up a raspberry and dangled it in front of his nose. “Can you smell that?”

“Is it you?” he said with a smirk.

“It could be, now that you’ve covered me in juice, but no. It’s not.”

“Smells like a raspberry.”

“Hmmm. Hold out your tongue.”

He hesitated, then he stuck out his tongue and waited. Abby rubbed the fruit lightly over his tongue, trailing it over his tastebuds. She watched for him moving to capture the raspberry and as soon as he did she snatched it away.

“Come on, now!” growled Marcus.

“Didn’t you just do the same thing to me?”

He was quiet then, unable to deny it.

“Open your mouth again.” She could almost see Marcus’s eye roll beneath the cloth, but he opened his mouth and she popped the raspberry inside. He sucked on it noisily, making Abby laugh.

“You have to be patient for the next part. I’m not the chef that you are.”

“What are you going to do?” Marcus felt blindly in the air for Abby but she’d already shifted back down to sit between his legs.

“Wait and see.” She dripped the cream on his belly and Marcus jumped.

“Cold!”

“Yes! It was.”

“Sorry.” He laughed.

“It’s okay.” She added oats to his belly and groin, and pieces of meringue, then drizzled the sauce.

“Are you literally making the dessert down there?”

“Shush.” She squeezed the sauce onto the head of his cock, let it drip down the sides.

“Ah, now we’re getting there,” said Marcus.

“I told you to shush.” Abby put her hands on his sides to hold him down before she did what he wanted. She didn’t want him jerking up involuntarily and ruining her creation. She licked the sauce off the head with the tip of her tongue, then sucked his cock into her mouth, getting as far down as she could to clean up most of the juice. Marcus groaned loudly. She let his cock fall out of her mouth and laid it on his belly. Then she reached to the table and picked up her phone, sitting up straight so she could get a good distance, and clicked the button, which made a noise like a camera shutter.

“What was that?” said Marcus.

“I’ll show you in a minute.”

“I’m starting to trust you less and less, Mrs Kane.” He wriggled and Abby held him down.

“I have to eat my dessert. Be patient.”

She bent over Marcus and used her tongue to lick the ingredients off him, massaging his belly and his groin as she went. He moaned, pushed himself towards her. She dribbled extra cream along the length of his cock, and then sucked him until he was squirming and begging her to stop before it was too late.

She took pity on him, reached over and removed the blindfold.

“God, that was hot,” said Marcus, panting. “What was that noise?”

“My phone.”

“I thought it was. Were you sexting pictures of my cock to Raven?”

Abby laughed long at that. “Sexting? Where did you get that?”

“It’s what they call it.”

Abby shook her head, still laughing. “I wasn’t sexting your cock to anyone. I was taking a picture.”

“Of what?”

“Of my creation.” She crawled up the bed to sit next to him, opened her phone gallery and showed him the photo of the food arranged on his belly and groin.

“Oh, my God!” Marcus stared at it, then he laughed. “Is that me?”

Abby nodded.

“I have a very, very big nose,” he said smugly.

“Your nose is very beautiful.”

He leaned in and kissed her. “You love my nose,” he whispered.

“I do.”

“Let’s see how much,” and he slid his cock inside her, pulling her to him so there wasn’t a millimetre between them. They rolled around the bed like that, swapping positions, fucking each other hard until the bed was creaking and they were groaning and they forgot for a precious few moments all their other responsibilities and enjoyed being together like this.

When they were finally spent and exhausted, they lay next to each other getting their breath back.

“That was the best dessert I’ve ever had,” said Abby with a satisfied sigh.

“It was.” Marcus rolled to look at her. “I’m going to put that picture as my home screen on my phone.”

“You can’t, Marcus! What if someone saw it? What if Oliver saw it?”

“He wouldn’t know what it was.”

“That’s not the point!”

Marcus sighed. “I know. We’re keeping it, though, yes, the picture?”

“I’ll email it to you and you can keep it on your laptop.”

“Yes, and one day we can look at it and remember the day we made baby number two.”

“We’re not making baby number two! We’ve had this discussion.”

“We made the first one during fantasy sex. It’s not me who decides, it’s the universe.” Marcus put his arms in the air, shrugged.

“I’m forty-seven. There will be no more babies.”

“I know, I know. One is enough.” He pulled her into his arms and they lay like that. Abby kissed his chest.

“You did well tonight,” she ventured, having decided it was time to broach the subject. “I don’t mean your bedroom technique, I mean with the mess. We’re all sticky, and you don’t seem bothered by it.”

Marcus kissed her hair. “Believe me, I am bothered. I’m lying here wondering how soon I can abandon you and jump in the shower.” He laughed softly. “But I’m trying to do things I wouldn’t normally by mitigating the consequences.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, for instance, I put an extra sheet on the bed so all we have to do is take that off and put it in the washer, and we can shower and all the mess will be gone.”

Well, I think you did more than try. It was a triumph!”

Marcus kissed her nose. “Thank you.”

“Shall we jump in the shower, then?”

“Together?”

“We’ve done it before.”

“I suppose it will save time.”

“Well, that depends,” said Abby as she swung her legs over the bed and got up.

“On what?”

“On what I do to you while we’re in there.” She smiled at him, then went into the bathroom to turn on the shower, get it to the right temperature. She could hear Marcus stripping the sheet from the bed, taking it to the utility room. Abby would launder it herself tomorrow; there was no way she wanted Alice to see it and wonder why it was covered in cream and raspberry juice. She laughed as she stood under the warm water, closing her eyes as it washed over her head.

Warm arms stole around her waist and she opened her eyes to see Marcus leaning in for a kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck and they kissed for a long time, her fingers in his wet hair, his hands on her arse, squeezing her cheeks. When they pulled apart she grabbed a new bar of soap, lathered it up and ran it over him, wiping the traces of cream from his stomach and the sticky residue of the sauce from everywhere.

“How did you get to be so handsome?” She sighed as she stroked the firm muscles of his arms.

Marcus flexed his bicep. “God’s gift.”

Abby laughed. “You certainly think you are.” She took his cock in her soapy hand, rubbed it, her fingers stroking his balls, his perineum, the crack of his arse.

“God,” said Marcus, and he staggered as she rubbed her finger over his hole, just the outside, never in. He was unlikely to ever let her do that. He liked this though, teasing him where he was sensitive.

“I love you,” she whispered as she caressed him.

“I love you too.” He lifted her, pressed her against the tile, pushed his stiffening cock into her.

She wrapped her legs around his back, her arms around his neck, and lifted her head to kiss him, and they fucked slowly against the shower wall, Abby’s hands roaming every part of him she could reach, from his head to his arse. He kissed her face, her neck, her lips. The water cascaded over them, warm and comforting. Marcus was nearing his release, but Abby didn’t think it would happen again for her, not that she was bothered. Sometimes it was nice just to be intimate, with no end goal.

When he’d come, Marcus kept thrusting, waiting for her. He put his hand between them, circled her clit with his fingers, but Abby knew it was pointless.

“I think I’m too tired,” she said, and he looked at her with concern.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She kissed him. “It’s fine. You already gave me three. Another would be greedy.”

“Okay. If you’re sure.” He set her down and they kissed again before cleaning up and towelling off.

Abby dried her hair while Marcus tidied the food away. She got back in bed and when he returned she pulled the light summer duvet over them and cuddled up to him. “Thanks for an amazing first night of our holiday.”

“It was my pleasure. I hope Oliver sleeps through many more nights.”

“Do you want to make a bet how many times he’ll come in and want to sleep with us?”

Marcus yawned. “No, because that’s a losing game.”

Abby gave a tired laugh. “We should stop him really.”

“I know, but...” Marcus looked at her.

“Yeah. He’s growing up.”

“Yes. We should enjoy every moment.”

Abby leaned across and kissed him. “We do. Night.”

“Night.”

Abby cuddled up to Marcus’s back and he pulled her arm over his stomach. When she’d first met him he would never have allowed this closeness when he was sleeping; hell, he didn’t even stay the night with her for the first couple of months. He had changed, even though she’d told him he didn’t have to, and it was for the better, because it made him happier, able to do more things, be more adventurous, for himself, for Oliver and for her. “You are a gift,” she whispered into his back, but his soft snores told her he was already asleep. She cuddled closer and let herself drift away.


	3. The Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A familiar face returns, and the Kanes enjoy a family day by the loch.

Abby was woken by the bed bouncing and Marcus saying “oof!” She opened her eyes to see Oliver jumping up and down on the bed.

“You have to be careful where you put your feet, Ollie. You hurt daddy.” Marcus’s voice was strained.

Abby turned to look at him. He was grimacing. “Are you okay?”

“Hopefully. He got me again. Right in the, you know.”

Abby stifled a smile. The number of times Oliver had jumped on the bed and landed right on Marcus’s sensitive areas was probably in triple figures. Luckily, it didn’t seem to have affected him in all the important ways, other than giving him brief moments of intense pain, which he liked to milk for sympathy.

“Mummy will kiss it better, daddy,” Oliver said innocently as he bounced.

“I’m counting on it.”

Abby giggled, and Marcus managed a huffy laugh. Abby looked at her phone to check the time and groaned. “It’s only six o’clock, Oliver!”

“I want to go out and play.”

“Why don’t you lie here with me and daddy for a while, have a rest?”

He shook his head, continued bouncing. “I want to go and see the ducks.”

“I’ll take him out for a walk,” said Marcus, and he pushed the cover off and got out of bed. He held his arms out to Oliver who was squealing with excitement and allowed himself to be picked up.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m awake anyway. You know me. Have a lie-in.”

“Thank you.” Abby blew Marcus a kiss and he smiled then left the room with Oliver clinging to his neck.

“Bye, mummy!” he said.

“Have fun, sweetheart.”

Abby turned over, tried to get back to sleep. She still felt exhausted from their drive yesterday and the night she’d spent with Marcus. How he had so much energy this early the morning after their night before she didn’t know. And he thought he was old!

When she next woke it was an hour later, and there were no sounds of the men in her life in the house. She got up, showered and dressed, made up Oliver’s bed and went into the living room. It was so peaceful she took a minute just to stand and listen to nothing except the birds calling to each other.

She was adding the last pancake to a stack when the door slid open and Oliver barrelled in, still in his pyjamas, a fishing net in hand. “I caught a fish, mummy! Show her, daddy.”

Marcus came behind with a bucket and showed it to Abby. His eyes were full of mirth but the rest of his face was serious. Abby peered into the water, then looked up at Marcus, frowning. “That’s great, darling,” she said. “Where is it?” she whispered to Marcus.

He put his hand in the water and pulled out the tiniest minnow Abby had ever seen.

“Ah,” said Abby with a smile.

“What do you think?” Oliver came over, peered at the fish as well.

“I think you’ve done very well, Ollie.”

“Daddy said we can put it in a bowl and keep it.”

“Did he?” Abby raised an eyebrow at Marcus who shrugged.

“I’ll sort it out after breakfast.”

“Then you two had better go and get washed up. Pancakes are ready!”

“Pancakes! Yes!” Oliver ran up the stairs and Marcus followed.

Abby took the pancakes out of the warming oven and they ate them at the kitchen table.

“I got a nice shot of Oliver this morning,” said Marcus.

“Let me see.”

Marcus passed Abby his camera and she scrolled through to the last shot on the roll which was of Oliver holding his fishing net, about to make a splash in the loch.

“That’s beautiful, God I love that, Marcus!”

“I’ll take it to that store in Glasgow when we have a rainy day, get it printed.”

“That would be great. It will look amazing on the wall here.”

Marcus smiled proudly. “What are the plans for today?” he said as he squeezed syrup onto his pancake.

“We need to go to the caravan park, make sure everything is ready for tomorrow.”

Marcus grimaced. “That means seeing you know who.”

“You’ll survive, and you know a certain person loves him.” She nodded at Oliver who was tearing off large pieces of pancake and stuffing them in his mouth. “Eat properly, Ollie.”

“That makes it worse!”

“You’re more childish than Oliver sometimes.”

Marcus pulled a silly face at her, making Abby laugh. “Can we at least do something fun after that?”

Abby ate a blueberry with a piece of pancake. “It’s my only free day until next weekend so I thought maybe we could take the boat out to the island, have a picnic?”

“That sounds nice,” said Marcus. “What do you think, Ollie? We could take our nets and look for bugs.”

“Can we take Freddy with us?” Oliver paused briefly in his pancake chewing to look hopefully at Marcus.

“Who’s Freddy?”

“My fish.”

“You can’t take the fish, darling,” said Abby.

Oliver started to pout. “Why not?”

“Because he might see the other fish and want to get back in the loch, then you’ll lose him,” said Marcus, logical as ever.

“Oh. I don’t want to lose him.”

“No. So we’ll leave him here, then?”

“Yes.”

“Good decision.” Marcus ruffled Oliver’s hair.

“Okay,” said Abby. “There’s a lot to get ready, so we’d better get moving. Go and get your bug things, Ollie, and bring a sweater in case it gets cold later.”

He ran off to gather his things together and Marcus packed their lunch while Abby got her paperwork and the things she needed for the art school loaded into the car. They drove the mile to the caravan park, Oliver chattering excitedly the whole way about what bugs he might see. He was fit to burst already and Abby hadn’t yet told him they were going to see his favourite person after her and Marcus.

“He doesn’t have an off switch today,” laughed Abby as they pulled up outside the administration block.

“When does he ever?”

“True.” She released Oliver from his car seat and he started to run in the direction of the boatyard, but Abby stopped him. “We’re seeing someone else first.”

“Who?” he said, frowning.

“Who normally lives here?”

His eyebrows rose high up his head and he got a big smile. “Oh!” He twirled around in a happy dance.

“Someone’s excited to see me!” said a young man with a laconic northern English accent.

Abby looked at Marcus who rolled his eyes.

“Murph! Murph. Murph, Murph!” Oliver ran towards John Murphy and flung himself into his arms.

“Hey steady on there, little dude. Be cool,” he said, but he put his arms around Oliver, bent to kiss his head.

Marcus stiffened next to Abby. She took his hand, squeezed it. He claimed he found it hard to trust Murphy, even though the man was running their business for them, but Abby thought he was jealous, wanted to be the only man in Oliver’s life, although he would never admit it.

“I caught a fish, Murph. It was this big!” Oliver spread his arms as wide as he could.

“That’s one big fish, kid. Did yer mum help you with it?”

“No, my daddy.”

“Really?” Murphy raised an eyebrow in Marcus’s direction, and Marcus started to step forward. Abby stepped in front of him instead.

It’s lovely to see you, John. How have you been?”

“Fine. Everything’s been great.”

“How are we set for tomorrow?”

“Fully booked as you know. I’m expecting people to arrive around four this afternoon.”

“That’s fantastic. I have a few things I want to talk to you about, and some supplies I’ve brought.”

“Come in, then. I’m sure the Governor won’t mind bringing everything in?” Murphy looked at Marcus with a sly smile.

“I’m not the Governor any more, as you well know.”

“Mayor, then, whatever.”

Abby turned to Marcus. “You don’t mind bringing the supplies in? The sooner I get done here, the sooner we can get to the island.”

“Of course I don’t mind.” He kissed her cheek, then he turned to Oliver. “Are you helping me with mummy’s things?”

“I have to tell Murph about Freddy.” Oliver ran past Abby so he could be behind Murphy as they climbed the steps to the Admin office. Abby looked back at Marcus, who was standing with his hands on his hips, a dark look on his face.

“It’s okay,” she mouthed, but he wasn’t appeased. He always felt like this, even though Oliver clearly adored his dad, loved spending time with him. It was important he had other people in his life, and Marcus knew that, but it was natural to want to be everything to your son, and the fact that it was Murphy made it ten times worse. Abby could only imagine how it felt, because so far Oliver hadn’t connected to another female in the way he had to Murphy. It would happen, though, one day. A teacher, or Raven, if he ever met her. He would love her, Abby knew it. She liked to think she would be cool about it, but you can never know how you will react.

She followed Oliver and Murphy into the van that functioned as Admin office and Murphy’s home. She’d wanted him as her assistant as soon as she thought about setting up the summer school. He’d been out of prison a few months and couldn’t find work. It had seemed like a good idea at the time and so it had turned out.

“My daddy said I can keep the fish,” Oliver was telling Murphy. “He put him in a bowl and we gave him weed and pebbles and I’m going to make him a house. Daddy said we can look for things on the shore.”

Abby wished Marcus was in the room now to hear Oliver talking about him. She’d tell him about it later.

“You’ll have to make him a caravan like this,” said Murphy.

Oliver nodded gravely. “He’ll need a big house.”

“He’s a big fish by all accounts.”

“He is! Daddy said he’s the biggest he ever seen.”

Marcus looked round the door just as Oliver clambered onto Murphy’s knee. He frowned. “Do you want me to take this straight to the studio?”

“That would be great,” said Abby, and Marcus left, shutting the door a little too hard behind him. “Daddy’s very proud of you,” she said to Oliver.

“We’re going to the island,” said Oliver to Murphy. “We’re hunting for bugs.”

“Rather you than me,” said Murphy, and he put his arms around Oliver to keep him steady on his knee.

Abby gave Oliver his dinosaurs. “Ollie, I need to talk to Murph for a minute, so play with Saur and then you can tell him all about the bugs you’re going to find.”

She gave Murphy a long stare. “Stop being mean to Marcus.”

“What did I do?”

“You know what you did. What you do every time. You wind him up.”

“It’s not my fault he hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“Did you see the way he looked at me before?”

Abby shook her head. “You know he came through for you with your dad.”

“No, he came through for you.”

Abby couldn’t really argue with that, because it was true, mostly. “The outcome was the same, and he trusts you with the holiday park, doesn’t he? There aren’t many people he trusts, John. I can count them on one hand.”

Murphy sighed. “I don’t hate him. I even kind of like him sometimes. It’s hard not to when this little dude looks so much like him, poor kid. He’s just easy to wind up. I can’t resist.”

“Well, try. For me.”

“You know I’ll do anything for you.” Murphy looked at her with a coy smile.

Abby laughed. He was impossible. “Tell me about the students tomorrow.”

They talked for a while about the classes, and then Marcus came in.

Oliver looked up and smiled at him. Marcus smiled back.

“Everything’s sorted in the classroom. It looks good in there,” he said.

“I gave it a fresh coat of paint.”

“You did a good job.”

“Thanks.” Murphy looked at Abby, who gave him a meaningful look in return. “Erm, your mini-me said you’re making a house for the fish.”

Marcus looked surprised. “Yes. We’re going to look for things this afternoon.”

“Murph wants it to be like the carvan, daddy.”

Marcus nodded. “Right.”

“Or a big fancy glass house,” said Murphy with a cheeky smile. “Whatever’s easiest.”

Marcus studied him for a long moment, and then his features relaxed. “A caravan sounds easier. Good idea.”

Murphy nodded. Abby started to relax. Now they’d got comparing dicks over with maybe they could all get on with business.

“So, I guess you want to see the books?” said Murphy.

“Yes. Just for my own peace of mind.”

“No worries.” Murphy leaned back and pulled a ledger from a pile of paperwork and handed it to Marcus. “We’ve been busy since May as you can see, and we’re full up to mid-September. Then it gets quiet until the October half-term.”

Marcus examined the books while Murphy updated them on what had happened with the business since they were last here at Easter. Marcus and Abby had found the caravan park when they were looking for somewhere for Abby to run the summer school and house the students. Marcus had bought it and had no plans other than for the school, until Murphy suggested opening it as a holiday park when the school wasn’t running. It had taken some persuading for Marcus to agree, but so far it had been a reasonable success.

Oliver got bored while they were talking and wriggled out of Murphy’s lap. He was passed Abby and out of the door before she could blink.

“Ollie!” she shouted, and she ran after him with Marcus and Murphy close behind. Her heart was pounding as he ran towards their car and then passed it towards the road. She caught up with him just before he got through the open gate, pulling his arm back, causing him to shriek in shock. A car sped past, and Abby had flashes of what could have been. They made her feel sick.

“Don’t run out like that, Ollie!” she said in a harsh voice born of fear. “You know you’re not to go near the road.”

Oliver started crying. “I wasn’t, mummy.”

“You were! Look how close you are!” Abby didn’t mean to sound angry but adrenaline was pumping through her veins even though she was more relieved than anything else. Oliver clearly picked up only on her loud, fearful voice. He screamed, and held out his arms to Marcus, who picked him up.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he said in soothing tones. “You scared mummy and daddy there, squirrel.”

“And me!” said Murphy.

“And Murph, and he doesn’t scare easily, does he?”

Oliver sniffed, shook his head. He buried his face in Marcus’s neck, put his thumb in his mouth.

“I’m sorry, darling,” said Abby, who felt terrible, although it wasn’t the first time they’d been through something like this. “I didn’t mean to shout.”

“Mummy’s sad, Ollie,” said Marcus. “Are you going to give her a cuddle?”

A few heaving sobs came out, and then he nodded. Marcus handed him to Abby and she cuddled him. “I’m sorry, baby,” she whispered. “You won’t run out into the road again, will you?”

“No. Sorry mummy,” he sniffed.

“Good boy. It’s okay.” She kissed him, pressed his small dark head to her breast. She couldn’t ever contemplate losing him.

“Remind me never to have kids,” said Murphy.

“You’d have to find someone to put up with you first,” said Marcus.

“Well, you managed it.”

Marcus laughed. “I don’t know how.”

“It’s a mystery to us all.” Murphy looked at Marcus, and then gave him a half smile.

Marcus nodded in return. “Thanks for looking after the place so well.”

“S’okay.”

“Shall we go and find the boat?” he said to Oliver in a bright voice.

“Yes!” Oliver wriggled and Abby set him down, taking hold of his hand so he couldn’t run too far. “Boat! We’re going in the boat!” He tugged on Abby’s hand, the past few minutes completely forgotten.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said to Murphy, and then she let Oliver pull her towards the boatyard while Marcus unpacked their things from the car.

Marcus removed the cover from their wooden boat, and it looked shiny and new, even though they’d had it for three years now. He kept it in good condition, and Abby could see her face in the polished wood of the covered bow. Marcus wheeled the trailer to the jetty and Abby followed behind laden with their food bags. Oliver carried his nets and bug bag. Marcus dragged the boat from the trailer and helped Abby to step in. He handed Oliver to her and she fastened his life jacket around him before settling with him on the far bench. Marcus stored their stuff under the seats, and then he pushed the boat out into the water and jumped in.

“Can I row, daddy?”

“You can help me when we get closer to the island.”

Marcus leant back and started to row. He was wearing a tight grey t-shirt and his biceps bulged as he heaved the boat threw the water. Abby settled back, her arms tight around Oliver, and watched her husband, enjoying the view. The sun was warm, and she trailed one hand in the water, still holding onto her son with the other. When they neared the island Marcus beckoned to Oliver.

“You can come and help me now.”

Oliver clambered to the middle seat and sat between Marcus’s legs. Marcus gave him the end of the oar. “Put your hand on the end here.” The child’s hand was too small to close around the oar, but Marcus put his own hand on top and together they moved the oar in a tight arc.

“This is hard!” said Oliver puffing with exertion.

“It is. It takes a lot of effort.” They went around in a circle a couple of times because Marcus was only using one oar. Abby took out her phone, snapped a picture of father and son with identical frowns of concentration on their faces.

“I’m doing it! I’m doing it, daddy!”

“You’re doing great, son.” Marcus picked up the other oar and steered them to the shallows of the island. “Go to mummy now,” he said when they beached, and when Oliver was safely in her arms Marcus jumped out and pulled the boat up the shore. Abby handed Oliver to him and all their paraphernalia in a reverse of how they’d started on the other shore, and then she took Marcus’s hand and stepped onto the shale of the island’s bank. Marcus pulled her in for a kiss, one hand around her waist, the other clutching the hand of their son.

“We’re on the island!” Abby shouted and she swung Oliver round in a big arc before setting him down, laughing.

“We’re on the island! We’re on the island!” Oliver did a dance over the shale, his small, booted feet crunching on the damp gravel.

Marcus watched him dance with a smile on his face, then after a moment he took hold of Oliver and made him stand still. “What are the rules?”

“Don’t go in the water.”

“And?”

Oliver screwed up his face as he thought. “Don’t go far. Don’t talk to anyone else.”

“Good. Stay where mummy and daddy can see you.”

Oliver nodded, then he picked up his butterfly net and ran to the bushes, sweeping it over them before peering intently into the net and then running to the next one.

Abby unfolded a blanket and sat down on it, angling herself so she could see her son. Marcus flopped down next to her.

“With any luck we’ll tire him out again,” he said with a smirk.

“I’m still tired out myself after last night.”

“I told you I’d do that to you.” Marcus put his arm around her, kissed her hair.

“You did, and you succeeded.”

“Not up for another round later then?”

“I didn’t say that.” She kissed him, keeping one eye on Oliver.

“I must admit Murphy’s doing a great job at the caravan park,” said Marcus when they parted.

“He’s a good man.”

“Man! I still think of him as a youngster.”

“He’s twenty-three now.”

“Time flies,” said Marcus with a sigh.

“Oliver couldn’t top talking about you when we were at the park,” said Abby. “It was all daddy this, daddy that.”

“Really?” Marcus looked sceptical. “He seemed happy enough with Murphy.”

“He has to have other role models, Marcus.”

“And he’s a good role model for our son?”

“Yes. He’s strong and determined and he doesn’t take any shit.”

“Sounds like you,” said Marcus with a smile.

“Well, all Ollie talked about was you. He adores you.”

“I know. I just love him so much.”

“We have to learn to share him, to let him out into the world.”

“Not yet. Not yet.” Marcus took Abby’s hand and kissed it. “I’m not ready for that.”

“No one ever is,” said Abby. Marcus laid his head against her chest and she nuzzled her lips against his hair. “He’s our son, and he always will be.”

They watched him running around with his net, listened to his chatter.

“I got something,” he said to himself as he peered into his net. “Oh, no it’s gone. I’ll try again.” He swept the net over another bush and looked into it. “Nothing. Damn!”

Marcus looked at Abby, who looked at him, surprised at their son’s use of a swear word. “He gets that from you!” Marcus said.

“He does not! You’re the one with the potty mouth!”

“I am not! You say damn ALL the time!”

Abby took in a deep breath, preparing herself for an argument, and then she thought about it, realised she did say it a lot, whereas Marcus usually stuck to stupid British idioms in front of Oliver, like oh my gosh, and well I never. Damn it! It WAS her fault!

“You’d better go and help him,” she said, as an excuse not to have to admit Marcus was right.

Marcus gave her a long, piercing look full of smug righteousness. “I will teach him good manners while I’m at it.”

Abby curled her lips into a sneer at that comment, but Marcus was already on his feet and heading towards Oliver. She stuck two fingers up at his back.

“I saw that!” said Marcus, even though he wasn’t looking at her.

Bastard, thought Abby, and she laughed.

Abby took out her sketchbook and started to draw her boys as they rummaged in the bushes with their nets, just loose lines, trying to capture their movement. She rarely got involved with the physical side of this activity as she wasn’t a huge fan of most of the creepy crawlies Oliver presented to her on a regular basis. She tried not to let her dislike show when he brought her a spider or God forbid one of those woodlice things that looked prehistoric. It was Marcus’s thing to do with his son.

Abby’s job was to help Oliver try to draw them if he wanted to, which involved looking at dead ones Marcus had pinned to a board for the purpose. She shivered at the memory of some of the things she’d had to look at. While she sketched she listened to father and son talking to each other as they hunted. Marcus was showing Oliver for the umpteenth time how to sweep the net properly. Abby smiled. He was more patient than she’d ever thought he would be. His patience wore thin at times, on some tasks more quickly than on others, but overall he was an attentive dad, keen for his son to learn but not too pushy.

“Daddy I got something,” Oliver was saying as he put his entire head inside the net. “Ooh, it’s a bug. I think it’s a bug. It is a bug.

“I hope it is as we’re bug hunting. Unless it’s a monster.” Marcus pulled a worried face and Oliver looked into the net again.

“It’s not big enough to be a monster, daddy, you’re silly.”

“Do monsters have to be big?”

Oliver stared at Marcus with a frown on his face as he contemplated this question. “Yes,” he said at last. “Else they’re not scary.”

Plenty of small things are scary, thought Abby as she sketched Oliver standing wide-eyed and looking at Marcus. Including what you’ve got in that net! She didn’t say anything out loud because she wanted Oliver to only have healthy fears about nature.

“I’m big,” said Marcus. “Does that make me scary?”

“No. You’re not scary, you’re daddy.”

“Really?” Marcus pulled a face at Oliver and then made himself look big and hunched and started creeping towards the boy. Oliver screamed, and ran away laughing and screaming. Marcus ran after him making roaring noises. Abby sat on her blanket and laughed as she drew.

When they returned half an hour or so later, Oliver was clutching the base of his net so the bugs couldn’t escape.

“Have you caught lots of things, Ollie?” said Abby as she steeled herself for the inevitable flaunting of his hoard.

“Yes, lots and lots. I think I got the most, didn’t I daddy?”

“We’ll see. Get your containers ready.”

Abby loosened the lids on the clear plastic bug containers and handed them to Oliver. He opened them and laid them on the ground.

“What do we do next?” said Marcus.

“We have to empty the nets into the containers.”

“That’s right. Can you remember how to do it?”

“I have to turn it outside in.”

“Inside out. Yes. Mummy will help you,” he said with a smirk.

Abby gave him a look. “Oh, I think this is a job for daddy. I wouldn’t want to mess it up.”

“Fine, but you can hold my net, then.” He handed the net to Abby, took her hand and folded it around the neck to keep it shut. Abby peered with distaste at the various creeping things that were crawling up the side of the net. Something else was buzzing and hitting the sides. She held the net at arm’s length. Marcus saw her and smiled. He was going to be punished later for this, one way or another.

“We need to try and do it quickly, so they don’t escape.”

“I’m ready, daddy. Let’s do this!” Oliver punched the air in excitement.

Marcus laughed softly, looked at Abby with proud eyes. “Okay. On three. One, two, three!” He upturned the net and pushed the contents into the container. “Get the lid, get the lid!”

Oliver grabbed the lid and got it mostly covering the top. “Oh, one flew away!” he said in dismay as something winged and buzzing disappeared into the air.

“It’s okay. There’s plenty more.” Marcus put the lid on the container, then they went through the same process with the net Abby was holding.

When they’d done Marcus took Oliver’s container and held it up to the light. “Now, let’s see what you’ve got.”

“There’s lots of black ones. Ooh, that one’s red, daddy, and that one.”

“What are the red ones?”

“Ladybirds.”

“Good boy. Now to identify the ones we don’t know you have to describe them to me, and I’ll look them up and mummy can write the names down. Okay?”

“Yes.” Oliver settled onto the blanket with the bug container in his hand. “This one’s a good one,” he said pointing to a wriggling creature. “It’s wiggly.”

Marcus got his Field Studies Council Guide to Invertebrates out of his backpack and opened it up. “What does it look like?”

“It looks like a hairy worm,” Oliver said, giggling.

Marcus laughed. “What colour is the hairy worm?”

“Brown.”

“Does it have legs?”

“Yes, lots!”

“How many?”

“One, two, three, four. Stop wiggling! One, two, stop it! Naughty bug!” Oliver admonished the bug with a stern look on his face, and Abby was reminded of the time she’d first started working with Marcus and he’d told her off for telling the prisoners he would extend the art therapy project when he’d said no such thing. A shiver went through her at the memory. He’d been so cold then, or he’d seemed it. It was a front though, for the most part, to hide his loneliness, his fear of rejection, betrayal, but it had taken a while to figure that out.

Marcus must have sensed her looking at him because he looked up at her with a warm smile that turned to concern when he saw her face. “You okay, there, mummy?” he said. “You look sad.”

“Don’t be sad, mummy,” said Oliver, looking at her with the same concern.

“I’m not sad, darling. I’m very happy. I was just thinking how much I love you and daddy.”

“Okay.” Oliver turned back to the bug container. “I can’t count the legs; the silly bugger won’t sit still.”

“You mean bug!” said Marcus, alarmed. “Silly bug.”

“Silly bugger,” said Oliver, and he laughed when he saw Marcus’s shocked face. “Silly bugger, silly bugger.”

“That’s you!” said Abby pointing a triumphant finger at Marcus.

“Oops!” Marcus stroked his chin, pulled on his lip. “We don’t say bugger, Oliver.”

“You say it, daddy.”

“Ha!” said Abby.

“You’re not helping!” Marcus grimaced at her, then turned back to Oliver. “Daddy’s naughty sometimes, and so is mummy, but you’re a good boy and good boys don’t say that word.”

“I want to be naughty too,” he said and then he jumped up and whirled around the shore, arms stretched out like a plane, shouting bugger over and over again at the top of his voice.

“Bugger!” said Marcus to Abby, and they both laughed.

“I guess we’re both a terrible influence.”

“Yes. Well, I’m never saying fuck again ever in my life, just in case!”

“Hmmm,” said Abby. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

They let Oliver run out of steam and get bored with the word and then Marcus convinced him to finish identifying their bugs so they could let them go.

“Time for picnic,” said Abby when the nets were empty and there was no chance of any bugs getting into their food.

“Yay!” Oliver ran over, plonked himself down on the blanket, eyes wide and expectant.

Abby unwrapped the food Marcus had prepared. There were cold meats, cheese and pickles, oat cakes and crusty bread. There was a small bowl of pasta salad for Oliver, and red bell pepper sticks which he reached for straight away, crunching them loudly, the juice dribbling down his lips, staining them red.

Marcus sat on a tree stump next to them as Abby pulled another box from the bag and opened it. She looked up at Marcus with a smile.

“Leftovers,” he said with a grin as she put the tub of raspberries on the blanket.

“Do you want one now?” she said, dangling one in the air.

“Yes.” Marcus reached forward and Abby popped the raspberry into his mouth.

“Juicy,” he said in a low voice.

Abby’s stomach flipped at his tone, and the memory of what they’d done the previous night.

“Can I have one?” said Oliver, his mouth stuffed with pepper.

“I don’t want to see what you’re eating, Ollie! Close your mouth. You can have one after your pasta.”

Abby cut some bread and cheese for Marcus and settled back with her own food. The water lapped gently at the shore, and then the peace was interrupted by a loud whirring sound.

“What’s that?” said Marcus.

“Sounds like Wallaby!” Oliver jumped up and ran to the shore.

“Don’t go in the water!” shouted Marcus.

“What’s Wallaby?” said Abby.

“That helicopter from Fireman Sam maybe?” Marcus shrugged.

Two Whooper swans flew in low and landed on the water with a splash. It was their wings stirring the air that had created the noise. Oliver turned to look at Abby and Marcus, a disappointed look on his face. “It’s not Wallaby,” he said.

“No, but you got the sound right,” said Marcus. “They do sound like a helicopter.”

“Yes! I saw a helcopter once.” Oliver sat back down, spooned some pasta into his mouth.

“Did you?” Marcus looked at Abby who frowned. She couldn’t remember them ever seeing a helicopter and neither could Marcus from the look he was giving her.

“It was big and lellow and all the sheep ran away.”

“Oh, yes! When we did that walk in Arrochar. You have a good memory, Oliver!” Abby was surprised he’d remembered that. It was last summer, a practice mountain rescue operation they’d stumbled across on a hike.

“I do. I member everything.”

“Like your mum,” said Marcus. “She never forgets anything, especially when daddy’s been naughty.”

“You’re always naughty.” Oliver laughed.

“You’re such a clever boy, Ollie.” Abby ruffled his hair, grinning at Marcus who was pretending to be outraged.

“In Fireman Sam, Wallaby driver has a silly voice,” said Oliver.

“He’s Australian. They have funny accents,” replied Marcus as he tore off some bread and ate it with a piece of Lancashire cheese.

“Marcus!” said Abby.

“Mummy has a funny accent,” said Oliver giggling.

“It is not mummy who has the funny accent,” said Abby, indignant.

“You don’t sound like me and daddy.”

“That’s because I’m from a long way away in America, as you know.”

“Mummy has a beautiful voice,” said Marcus. “It’s one of daddy’s favourite things about her.”

Abby looked at Marcus in surprise. He’d never said anything like that before. Maybe he was trying to make up for starting this conversation with his crack about Australians.

“No one else at school speaks like mummy.”

“That’s because she’s very special and unique.”

“I know. I love you THIS much, mummy!” Oliver spread his arms as wide as he could, flinging pasta into the air from his spoon which he was still gripping.

“Thank you, baby. I love you that much too.”

Oliver nodded and returned to his pasta. Abby watched him eat. He was growing up so quickly, noticing differences, realising his place in the world more, outside of their little family. He was still incapable of eating properly, though, with tomato sauce smeared across his mouth and dribbles of pepper juice on his t-shirt.

Marcus was humming a tune that Abby was far too familiar with while he ate his raspberries, and Oliver started laughing and joining in. This only encouraged Marcus.

“He’s always on the scene,” sang Marcus.

“Fireman Sam!” replied Oliver.

“And his engine’s bright and clean.”

“Fireman Sam!”

“You cannot ignore.”

“Sam is the hero next door!” They sang together.

They repeated the song, and Abby listened and watched, amused, completely in love with her two boys, and also despairing, because now the tune was going to be an earworm for the rest of the day.

“Come here,” she said to Oliver when he’d finally finished eating and singing. He came towards her and she cleaned the disaster zone that existed around his mouth with a wet wipe while he wriggled and tried to get away from her.

“You have a big booger,” she said as she tried to get the wipe close to his nose.

“I love boogers!” He escaped her clutch and ran down to the lake’s edge.

She watched him splash around, his finger stuck up his nose, trying to tease the booger out.

“Sorry for the comment about Australians,” said Marcus, looking at her sheepishly. “I didn’t realise he’d relate it to you.”

“You should be apologising to Australians.”

“The first one I come across I will apologise to.”

“You’re an idiot,” Abby said laughing.

“An idiot that you love.”

“Sometimes.”

“I’m thinking I might test the water,” said Marcus, and he stood up, pulled his t-shirt over his head, eased his pants down so he was standing in his shorts. The scar on his abdomen from the stab wound that had punctured his lung was standing out a livid purple against his olive skin. Abby had a matching one on her leg, though hers was smaller and faded now.

“Rather you than me.”

“Come on, Abby. Get your feet wet.” He held his hand out to her and Abby sighed, then she stood and took his hand, letting him lead her to the water.

She put a tentative foot into the loch. It was cold despite the warmth of the sun, and she stepped back again. That was a mistake, because she suddenly felt arms around her, sweeping her up, and before she could yell Marcus was wading into the water with her in his arms.

“Daddy!” screamed Oliver happily.

“Wait there, Ollie,” said Marcus. “I’ll come for you.”

He set Abby down into the water so she was thigh-deep, her sundress floating around her, her knickers wet. The cold shocked the breath out of her, and she couldn’t speak for a second. When she found her voice, she directed it at Marcus.

“You ba...!” She couldn’t say the rest of the word because Oliver was watching them.

Marcus grinned, then he waded back to the shore and picked up Oliver, putting him on his shoulders as he returned to Abby.

“You were saying?” he said with an innocent look.

“You’re going to regret this later.”

“Later is later. Let’s splash mummy, Ollie.” He knelt so Oliver could reach the surface and they both splashed water over Abby. She gave in and splashed them back until all three of them were soaked through and hoarse from screaming and laughing.

They waded to the shore, dripping water onto the shale. Steam rose from their clothes and bodies as the sun beat down on them. Abby discretely removed her knickers and left them on a rock to dry. Marcus disappeared into a bush to replace his shorts with his pants and then laid them next to Abby’s. Abby always carried a complete change of clothes for Oliver just in case, so he was the only one of them who was completely dry.

Abby sat on the blanket, her wet sundress bunched around her, sending wisps of steam into the air.

“Have you enjoyed your day, Mrs Kane?” said Marcus as he sat next to her.

“Bugs flying in my face and getting soaked wet through is what I live for.”

“You wouldn’t change it,” said Marcus and he put his arm around her, kissed her cheek.

“Never.” Abby turned so his lips brushed against hers, and they kissed. She kept one ear attuned to Oliver as he played with his dinosaurs, but the rest of her attention was on Marcus, his lips that tasted of the loch, and his skin that was soft and damp and smelled of pondweed and sunshine. She ran her fingers over his chest, traced the line of his scar. “You’re my everything,” she whispered, and he groaned.

“You and our boy. I’d die for you,” he murmured.

“No need for that.” Abby stroked his cheek with the back of her fingers. “Lots of life left yet.”

“Ewww! Mummy! Daddy! Stop kissing!” Oliver ran over to them clutching his dinosaurs.

“Come here,” said Marcus, and when Oliver went to him he grabbed him and rained kisses all over him while the boy yelled and laughed and fought to escape.

“I suppose we should go back,” said Abby when Marcus and Oliver had both calmed down and were sitting picking at the last of the raspberries.

“Freddy will have missed me,” said Oliver solemnly.

“We didn’t find him anything to make his house!” said Marcus.

“Let’s do it now, daddy!”

“okay. Then we’ll have to go home.”

They disappeared down to the shore and Abby popped the last raspberry in her mouth and sucked on it while she packed up their things. Marcus and Oliver returned a while later laden with driftwood and shiny pebbles, weeds and flowers.

“Those will make a good house,” Abby said to Oliver.

“Yes. We’re going to make a carvan with glass like our house. Show mummy the glass daddy.”

Marcus showed Abby some pieces of glass that had been polished smooth by the waves.

“Freddy’s going to love that,” said Abby. “Put them in daddy’s backpack and then we’ll have to go.”

They made their way back to the boat, and Oliver fell asleep in Abby’s arms as they crossed back to the other shore. She carried him to the car, fastened him into the car seat still fast sleep.

“He’ll be awake later now,” said Marcus with a grimace.

“There’ll be plenty of night left,” said Abby, and she kissed him before climbing into the passenger seat and then Marcus drove them home.


	4. It's A Worm's Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the first day of the summer school and Abby's eager to meet her students. One of them takes a shine to Marcus.

Abby sat at the table on the balcony waiting for her breakfast to be served. It was another beautiful day, warm already even though it was only eight o’clock. She hoped this weather would last a while longer. The patio doors were open and she could hear Marcus and Oliver talking as they prepared her food.

“We can’t serve that one now it’s been on the floor, Ollie,” said Marcus, sighing.

“We can make another one, daddy.”

“We’ll have to. Try not to drop it this time.”

Abby smiled as she listened. They were making her drop scones, which were small Scottish pancakes, and at least two so far had lived up to their name and not made it to the plate. Abby would be happy eating one that had been on the floor because their floor was immaculate and probably cleaner than most peoples’ countertops, but there was no way Marcus would allow it.

A minute later and Oliver came through holding a small tray with a plate of scones on it and a red geranium from the garden in a glass. He was followed by Marcus who hovered close behind, ready to save the tray if it slipped from their son’s shaky hands. Oliver handed it solemnly to Abby who put it on the table in front of her.

“Happy breakfast, mummy.”

“Wow, these look amazing, darling. Thank you!”

Oliver beamed, and Marcus set a jug of orange juice down on the table before returning to the kitchen to bring the rest of the food for him and Ollie.

Oliver clambered into his seat next to Abby. “These are yummy,” he said as he forked a large piece into his mouth.

“They are. You and daddy did a good job.”

“I mixed it all up,” said Oliver.

“He did,” said Marcus proudly.

“They’re very tasty,” Abby finished one of her pancakes and washed it down with some orange juice. “What are your plans for today, then?”

“Daddy’s taking me fishing.”

“Oh, that sounds good,” said Abby.

“I thought we’d go down to the pier, fish from there, maybe take a swim seeing as the weather’s so good.” Marcus poured Oliver a glass of juice.

Abby sighed. “You are making me very jealous.”

“Sorry,” said Marcus with a smirk.

“You can come too, mummy.” Oliver smiled brightly at her.

“I can’t, sweetheart. I start the summer school today.”

“Oh.” His face fell, and Abby’s heart constricted.

“Mummy’s helping people this week, Ollie, but maybe we can find something nice for her when we’re on the shore, something to make her happy.”

“Like worms!” he said, his face lighting up.

Marcus looked at Abby and laughed. “Maybe not worms. I was thinking we could look for the smoothest pebble we can find, something like that.”

“Make it a surprise,” said Abby and then she looked at her watch. “Okay, I have to get ready. Thank you for breakfast.” She stood and kissed Oliver’s head, and then went around the other side of the table and kissed Marcus’s.

“We’ll give you a lift,” said Marcus as he put his hand around her waist, preventing her from leaving.

“I’d like to walk; it’s such a nice day.”

“No!” Marcus pulled her down so she fell onto his lap and he gripped her tight.

“Marcus!” Abby laughed and wriggled, and Marcus gripped her tighter.

Oliver squealed. “Daddy’s being silly.”

“He is!”

“I don’t want you to go,” Marcus whispered.

“You’ll be fine. You’ve got Ollie.”

“True, and you’ve got a bunch of delinquents.”

“They are not delinquents, Marcus!” Abby swatted his arm.

“The last lot were.”

“They were challenging, that’s all. This year will be fine, I know it.”

“I hope so.”

Abby put her arms around Marcus’s neck, leaned in and kissed him. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“We’ll pick you up, no arguments.”

“Okay.” She gave him one last kiss then wriggled out of his lap. He reluctantly let her go.

Abby kissed Oliver. “Bye, baby. You be a good boy for daddy. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, mummy.”

Abby pressed another kiss to his soft hair and then went into the house with a sigh. She was excited about the day ahead, meeting the new students, getting to know them, but it was hard to leave Marcus and Oliver. This year Oliver was so much more grown up she felt like she was going to be missing out on a lot of fun. Still, it was good for him to spend time alone with Marcus.

She got her things together and then headed for the door. As she went to the gate she turned, and Marcus and Oliver were standing on the doorstep hand-in-hand.

“Have a good time, mummy!”

“You too, sweetheart. Have fun!”

She left as tears were starting to well and she didn’t want him to see them.

The walk was pleasant as the road skirted the loch and the roadside flowers were in full bloom, making the air heady with their scent. No cars passed Abby as it was still early, and she felt uplifted and ready for the day ahead by the time she got to the holiday park.

Murphy was crossing the yard as she entered.

“Morning!” he said.

“Morning, John. How’s everything?”

“Fine. They’ve had breakfast and they’re getting ready for the day.”

“Everyone turned up?”

“Yeah.” He opened the door to his caravan and ushered Abby through. She sat down while he sorted out two cups. “Coffee?” he said.

“Oh, yes, please. So, what are they like?”

Murphy shrugged as he put grounds in the machine. “Seem okay. The usual.”

“Are they going to be trouble?”

“Did you think I was trouble when you first met me?”

“Yes!” Abby laughed. “You told me you were clever, and you didn’t give a fuck.”

“Oh, yeah.” Murphy grinned. “Still true.”

“Seriously, you know I’m interested in your opinion. Your instincts are usually good.”

“Well, the little one is probably going to be your biggest nightmare.”

Abby consulted the notes Murphy had sent her. “Octavia. What makes you say that?”

“Experience.” Murphy handed Abby her coffee.

Abby blew on it so she could take a sip. “I’m sure it will be fine.”

“We’re about to find out.”

“I thought we’d go outside today seeing as the weather is so good. Do some landscape drawing.”

Murphy nodded. “I figured you’d want to do that. I’ve got everything ready. Do you want to go anywhere in particular?”

“Down to the sailing club? Then there’s the boats to look at as well.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll load the minibus while you’re doing your thing.”

“Okay.” Abby drained the rest of her coffee, got a mint from the pocket of her jeans and sucked on it. “I’d better go and face this year’s mob.”

“Yep. See you in a bit.”

“Okay.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “Thanks, John.”

She went out into the sunshine, took a deep breath, and then walked over to the classroom. This was her favourite part of the course, meeting the students, fleshing out the stark facts she had about each one.

She opened the door and walked in. Six faces turned to look at her. Abby walked to the front of the room. “Morning everyone. I’m so glad to see you all here. Have you settled in okay?”

There was a murmur and a collective nodding of heads. This was how things usually went on the first morning, when no one knew each other and they were all unsure about what was to come, nervous probably, although none would admit it. She looked at the students. They were a mixed bunch this year. Two older students and four young adults. Should be interesting.

“I thought it would be a good idea if we introduced ourselves and then I’ll tell you how all of this is going to work, and then we’ll get out into the fresh air and do some painting.” She smiled broadly and was met with mostly blank stares. The blonde girl at the front was the only one who smiled back.

“I’ll start with me. My name is Abigail Griffin Kane, but I exhibit as Abby Griffin. You can call me Abby. I only get called Abigail if my husband is annoyed with me.” She paused to see if anyone would laugh but they didn’t. Tough crowd. Okay, then. “I’ve been a professional artist for over twenty years. I’m from California and I used to have an art gallery there until my first husband ran off with all my money and bankrupted me.”

That made their heads lift and look at her. It always did. Abby had learned that it was best to be honest about herself, her history, her motivations, because they could google her anyway and probably had, and it helped when dealing with people with troubled lives to show them that she was not on a pedestal somewhere far above them, despite her current privileged life.

“Seven years ago I had to start my life over, and I began working as an art therapist at a prison, and teaching in a local high school.”

“Bit of a come down,” said a dark-haired young man at the back.

“Depends how you judge success. My life over the last few years has been more rewarding than any of the years when I flew around the world and went to glamorous parties. I started this summer school three years ago to give opportunities to people in difficult circumstances who were interested in or had shown a talent for art. The school is funded through the One Decision Foundation which I run with my husband.”

She looked around again. They were marginally more interested than they were at the start, so that was something. “So, that’s me. Now I’d like you to tell me your name and something about yourself, and what you hope to get out of your time here.” She looked at the blonde girl who seemed eager. “Why don’t you start.”

The blonde girl stood up. “My name is Clarke. I’m eighteen. I was in juvenile detention but I don’t want to say what for. I guess I kind of went off the rails a bit when my dad died. I really love to draw. That was something else I got in trouble for, drawing all over the walls of my cell.” She laughed. “I’d really like to learn how to improve my techniques, and to do different styles of drawing and painting. Mostly I use chalk and charcoal.” She looked at the rest of the class, and then sat down.

“Thank you, Clarke.” Abby smiled. Clarke seemed like she would be a breeze to teach. “Next.”

An older man with tight, salt and pepper curls stood up. “I’m Jacapo Sinclair, but people call me Sinclair. I was an engineer, but I had a problem with alcohol and I lost my job and ended up on the streets for a while. I started going to a day centre where they had art therapy like you teach and that’s how I got into it. I’d like to improve my skills and learn from you as I’d like to help others the way I was helped.”

“Thank you, Sinclair. It’s nice to meet you.”

The dark-haired boy spoke next. He didn’t stand, just sat slouched in his chair. “I’m Bellamy. I’m twenty-three. My parents died a long time ago and me and my sister were shoved into different homes until we ended up on the streets for a while. I was into graffiti and I guess I’d want to do something with that maybe.”

“Thank you, Bellamy.” Abby’s eyes alighted on his sister, Octavia, who frowned.

“I’m Octavia. I’m sixteen. I’m not really into art or any of that shit. I’m here because he’s here,” she said, nodding towards Bellamy.

“Is there any kind of art you like to look at, Octavia?”

She shrugged. “I suppose his graffiti is okay.”

Abby nodded. “That’s good. Thank you, Octavia.” Murphy was right to an extent, she was going to be a handful, but Abby suspected she was more troubled than trouble itself.

The older woman stood up next. She was tall, with ebony skin and a black tattoo that curled around her eye in the shape of a sickle or something similar. “I’m Indra. I was sent here by my mentor from The Prison Reform Trust. I got out of nick a year ago. I was in mainly for GBH. I like to paint, and I’m interested in tattooing, but I don’t have materials or stuff where I live. I’d like to be the best I can be.”

“Thank you, Indra. There are no limits on how many materials you can use while you’re here. Everything is at your disposal,” Abby said, addressing the last part to the whole class.

The last person to talk was a young woman with long, brown hair and cheekbones that could rival Abby’s. She stood, and she was tall and slim. “Echo. I don’t consider age a factor. I was sent down for assault with a deadly weapon. A sword,” she said, looking around the class. Octavia’s ears pricked up, and she turned to look at Echo, her eyes wide. “I work mainly with natural materials. I’d just like the chance to learn more, I guess.” She sat down again, folded her arms, leant back in her chair.

Bellamy was looking at her, and Clarke. If anyone was going to be trouble, thought Abby, it would be her.

“Thank you, Echo. You’ve all met my assistant, John Murphy. No doubt he hasn’t told you anything about himself, but I have his permission to tell you that I met him when I was working in the prison, and he became my assistant. He’s my success story. My only one, although I live in hope.” She laughed softly and smiled at the group. Clarke smiled back, and Sinclair. Everyone else remained stony-faced.

“There are some basic ground rules,” she said, and the younger adults groaned. “We have respect for each other and our stories. We operate under the Chatham House Rule. That means you can say anything you want and it won’t leave this group.”

“What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,” said Bellamy with a laugh.

“Exactly. We don’t judge each other. There is no racism, sexism, homophobia, or anything else that disrespects the choices of other people. Bad language is kept to a minimum. I want you to feel able to talk to me about anything, or if you can’t talk to me then to Murphy. Failing that, there are details in your caravans of helplines and websites should you need them. Above all, we’re here to learn and to have fun, and hopefully to get to know each other and to enjoy each other’s company. We have four weeks together, so it helps if we can get along. Okay?”

Everyone nodded. “Fine. That’s enough of my voice. We’re going to take advantage of this beautiful day and go out into the fresh air and look at landscapes. Murphy has packed the minibus with everything you need. If there’s anything you want, go and get it now because we’ll be out most of the day. There are toilets where we are going. I’ll see you outside in ten minutes.”

Abby waited while the students left, then she grabbed her bag and went to see Murphy at the minibus.

“How did it go?” he said.

“Fine, I think. I’m not sure Octavia is going to be the biggest problem.”

“Oh, really?” he said as he loaded a cool box into the luggage compartment. “Who is?”

“Echo.”

“Echo? Oh, the girl with long dark hair. Fuck, yeah, she’s hot.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” said Abby with a laugh, and then she got into the front seat of the minibus as the students arrived and got into the back. Murphy jumped up into the driver’s seat and pulled out of the holiday park, heading back past Abby’s home, along the side of the loch to the sailing club.

\---

The journey back to the holiday park was noisier than the one that had left it a few hours earlier. The day had been a reasonable success, with the students gradually coming together, and even Octavia had said more than two words. Granted, they were criticisms of Clarke, but the older girl had given as good as she got, so Abby had no worries there. They pulled up in the car park, and Abby’s heart skipped a beat when she saw Marcus leaning against the Land Rover, waiting for her. He was dressed in a black t-shirt, black shorts and runners, and his hair was damp and slicked back.

“Damn!” said Octavia. “Who the hell’s that?”

“That’s my husband,” said Abby, not without some pride.

“He’s hot!”

“O!” said Bellamy.

“What? I’m sure Abby’s aware how hot he is.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t want to hear it from you.”

“Just don’t tell Kane you think he’s hot,” said Murphy from the front seat. “His head’s big enough as it is.”

Abby smiled at Octavia as Murphy said this and was rewarded with a brief grin before the sullen look returned.

Abby got out of the bus first and Marcus came up to her, kissing her on the cheek. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi. Where’s Ollie?”

“Asleep in the car.”

“You tired him out!”

“He tired ME out! He never stops. I’m exhausted.”

“You always forget the reality of spending all day with him,” said Abby with a grin.

Marcus shook his head. “How was your day?”

“Good. Do you want to meet the students?”

Marcus gave her a look, but he followed her to the back of the bus where the students were helping Murphy unload the equipment.

“Everyone, this is my husband, Marcus Kane.”

The students stopped what they were doing and looked at him. Marcus put his hand in the air. “Hello,” he said.

Octavia came bouncing forward. “I’m Octavia,” she said, holding out her hand palm down as though she expected Marcus to take it and kiss the back of it. He shook it limply instead.

“Marcus.”

“And what do you do, Marcus, other than stand around looking handsome?”

“I. Erm.” Marcus looked to Abby, flummoxed by Octavia’s forwardness. Abby smiled at him, amused by his discomfort. “Erm, local government and fundraising.”

Octavia nodded, then she turned to Clarke. “He can govern me anytime,” she said in stage whisper. Marcus turned pink.

Abby took pity on him and steered him away from Octavia. “This is Sinclair, and Bellamy, Clarke, Echo and Indra.” Marcus shook hands with each of the students, pausing when he came to Indra. He studied her for a second.

“Have we met before?”

“At Manchester. You came to give a talk to us about your wife’s art therapy programme. It’s where I first heard about it.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right.” He turned to look at Abby. “And you thought I wouldn’t be able to inspire anyone!”

Abby had been heavily pregnant with Oliver at the time they were scheduled to meet the governors and inmates at HMP Manchester, so Marcus had gone alone with Williams. “I don’t recall saying those exact words.”

“It was my mentor at PRT that got me interested, actually,” said Indra, bursting Marcus’s bubble.

“Oh. PRT you say? I know a lot of people there. Who was your mentor?” Marcus and Indra drifted away as they chatted. Abby was pleased to see him taking an interest in one of her students. Usually, he stayed as far away as he could, saying it reminded him too much of his time as Governor.

Abby heard a banging behind her and she turned to see Oliver’s hands pressed against the window of their car, his nose and lips squashed up against the glass. She went over and released him.

“Hey, sweetheart. Have you had a good day?”

“Yes.” Oliver yawned and held out his arms to be picked up. Abby held him against her hip and he buried his head in her shoulder, sucking his thumb.

“You’re too old for thumb-sucking, Ollie,” Abby said but he just blinked and ignored her. She walked over to the students and Sinclair came towards her.

“Who’s this?” he said, holding out his hand to Oliver. Oliver tucked his head further into Abby’s neck.

“This is my son, Oliver. He’s not normally so shy. He’s tired.”

“I have a grandson about his age.” Sinclair sighed. “My son doesn’t let me see him much.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Abby was surprised to hear he had a grandchild. She knew he was similar in age to her and Marcus, but then they had started their family late compared to a lot of people. She realised in that moment why Marcus worried about his age so much. He could have had a grown-up son by now, they both could have. She held Oliver tighter.

“It’s my own fault,” Sinclair was saying. “I wasn’t a pleasant drunk.”

“Are you still in contact with your son?”

“Occasionally.”

“Then there’s hope, yes?” Abby smiled at Sinclair.

“I suppose.”

Marcus strode over, followed by Indra, and Abby was pleased to see him because she had some things she had to complete before they could go home. “Can you take Ollie for me? I just have to finish up here.”

“Of course.” Marcus took their son from her and held him against his own hip.

Abby heard Octavia say “my ovaries have exploded” to Clarke as she went past. Abby had no idea what that meant, but Clarke obviously did because she laughed. Where did they get this language from these days? She dreaded to think what words Oliver would come out with when he was older. Would she and Marcus be able to understand anything he said? They’d have to keep up with it all somehow.

\---

There was a familiar car in the driveway when Marcus pulled up outside their house.

“Alice is here,” said Abby with a smile.

“Yes, she arrived just before we left.”

“Oh, God,” said Abby as she realised something.

“What’s up?” Marcus got out of the car and went to get Oliver out of his seat.

“I never washed the sheet from the other night. I meant to, but I left it in the washing machine.”

Marcus shrugged. “So?”

“So! It’s covered in cream and raspberry sauce and God knows what else. She’s going to wonder what we were doing.”

“Blame it on Oliver.”

“What did I do, daddy?” Oliver said as he took Marcus’s hand.

“Nothing, squirrel. You’ve been a good boy all day.”

“She’s never going to believe that.” Abby opened the front door with some trepidation.

“She’s not going to say anything.”

“That doesn’t matter. She’s going to know!”

“She’s at least a hundred. It’s not the first thing that will come to her mind.”

“Old people have private lives too you know, Marcus.”

“Not Alice!” said Marcus, and he screwed up his face at the thought.

“Young people probably think the same about us.” Abby slipped off her shoes, hung her jacket on the peg by the door. Oliver ran inside.

“We have proof of our healthy sex life,” said Marcus, pointing at Oliver who was crawling along the floor on his stomach.

“I’m a worm, daddy,” he said as he wriggled past them.

“I thought we found him under a holly bush,” said Abby with a laugh.

“We dug him up by the looks of it.”

Alice came through to the hallway, sidestepping Oliver deftly for a seventy-five-year-old. Her white hair was tied neatly in a bun and her hands were sheathed in yellow rubber gloves.

“I’ve done the laundry, Mrs Kane,” she said.

“It was Oliver!” said Marcus and Abby at the same time.

Alice frowned. “Oh, the sheet. I thought it must hae been. Ye really shouldn’t let him play with his food like that.”

“He takes after his dad,” said Abby with a grin.

“I doubt that,” said Alice. “Mr Kane has always been a very clean person.”

“That’s right,” said Marcus with a smug look.

Abby rolled her eyes. Alice had known Marcus since he was a young boy, and he could do no wrong in her eyes. “Thank you for doing the laundry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to leave it for you,”

“It’s nae bother, pet.”

“I’m a worm, Grammy Alice,” Oliver said as he slithered between them.

“Ye’d better hope I dinnae catch ye wee lad. I was thinking of having a worm sandwich fer tea.”

“You can’t catch me! I’m a super worm.” He crawled into the living room and Abby and Marcus followed him.

Abby flopped into the armchair. “I’m exhausted. I forgot how much the first day takes out of me.”

“You should try fishing with a four-year-old,” said Marcus. “He wouldn’t sit still for five minutes.” He sat in the chair opposite Abby, laid his head back and yawned.

“I’ll tek the wee bairn for a bit while ye rest,” said Alice.

“You don’t have to do that,” said Abby, sincerely hoping that Alice would ignore her.

“Dinnae be silly. Have some time to yerselves.”

She opened the patio door and ushered Oliver out into the back garden, closing the door behind her.

Abby yawned as well. “Did you have a good time, though, despite it being exhausting?”

“Aye. We had a swim. He’s getting more confident, like a little fish.”

“I wish I’d seen that,” said Abby wistfully.

“I videoed it for you.” Marcus handed Abby his phone and she watched Oliver circling Marcus and laughing. “He was a shark and I was his prey.”

“It’s scary how independent he’s getting.”

“I know.” Marcus took the phone back and watched the video with an affectionate smile. “We built the fish a house and made you a present but I’m not allowed to tell you about it without him.”

“I can’t wait to see that.”

“He’s really excited about it.” Marcus reached out with his bare foot and rubbed it against Abby’s. “How were the students really? They didn’t seem too bad. Indra was nice.”

“Yes, I saw you two getting along.”

“She’s been working with Peterson over at the Trust, so we were talking about that.”

They talked about Abby’s day until Alice came in with Oliver who was covered in dirt.

“He decided tae dig up some worms with his bare hands. I could nae get to him quick enough.”

“It’s okay, Alice. What is this obsession with worms, Oliver? Look at the state of you!”

“I’ll take him to get cleaned up,” said Marcus, easing himself out of the chair.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll do it. You’ve done enough with him today.”

“If you’re sure?”

“Yes. It will be nice to have a bit of time with him anyway.”

“Okay. I’ll get dinner started.”

“What are we having?”

“Spaghetti,” said Marcus with a huge belly laugh.

Abby shook her head and groaned.

“Worms!” said Oliver excitedly.

“I’m going to kill you later,” said Abby, mock glaring at Marcus.

“I’ll kill him for ye, Mrs Kane,” said Alice, who refused to call them by their first names.

“Thank you, Alice. Make sure you do it slowly.” Abby took Oliver by the hand and led him upstairs to the bathroom. She ran a warm bath and stripped off his filthy clothes. Somehow, he was even dirtier beneath them.

“How have you got like this?”

“I wiggled on the soil like a worm.”

Abby sighed softly. “I don’t know whose child you are sometimes. In you get,” she said, lowering him into the water.

“Can I have duck, Fireman Sam and Iggle Piggle please, mummy?”

Abby got the toys and put them in the water with him. “How about a bath bomb?”

“Yes!”

She dropped a multi-coloured bomb into the bath and Oliver laughed and splashed as it fizzed and melted. “What’s the surprise?” she said when all the bomb had dissolved.

Oliver scooped up the toy. “It’s a froggy.”

“That’s cool.”

“Yeah. I got you a surprise.”

“Have you?”

“Yes. I can’t tell you what it is but it’s a pebble,” he said, looking up at her with excited eyes.

Abby supressed a smile. “I can’t wait to see that.”

“Daddy’s hid it.”

“Hidden. Daddy’s hidden it.”

Oliver nodded, completely disinterested in the correct grammar. He returned his attention to his toys. “Oh, no, Froggy, you’re stuck up a tree. Fireman Sam will have to come rescue you. Sorry Froggy my ladder won’t reach. Can you help me, Iggle Piggle?”

Abby sat on the closed toilet seat and watched as Oliver invented a story and played all the parts of his toys. She’d never thought she wanted a child, mainly because there was no chance of having one with her ex-husband, so she’d probably convinced herself it wasn’t something she wanted anyway. She’d certainly never expected to have one with Marcus, not at their advanced ages, but here he was, and now she couldn’t imagine life without him.

He’d caused enormous disruption when he’d arrived, with neither of them really having any clue what to expect and finding themselves woefully unprepared for the reality. Marcus had a very regimented life, and if she was honest, so did Abby, albeit in a different way. They both had routines, and ways of doing things, and they’d created their own life together that suited them, and then Oliver had turned all of that upside down. He’d bulldozed his way into their lives, shattering everything they’d known or thought before that, and nothing could have made them happier.

She smiled at him as he splashed around. “I love you, kid,” she said softly.

He didn’t hear her, too engrossed in his game. “Okay,” she said louder. “Time to get clean and then get something to eat!”

She washed his hair, scrubbed his body. He was losing his baby fat, his torso lengthening, his little pot belly slimming down. His arms and legs were still chubby, though, and Abby squeezed them gently as she washed him. He was on the cusp between baby and young boy, probably beyond the cusp if she was honest, but she didn’t want to be honest about that, because she wasn’t ready to lose her baby just yet.

“Okay, you’re done,” she said, and she lifted him out, wrapped him in a towel and carried him to his bedroom to dress him in his pyjamas before they went downstairs to Marcus, and the wonderful smells that were emanating from the kitchen.

“Has Alice gone?” said Abby as she entered the kitchen where Marcus was draining a pan of spaghetti.

“Yes, but she’s coming back tomorrow so I can do that conference call with the Committee.”

“Can we give mummy her present now?” said Oliver, pulling on the leg of Marcus’s shorts.

“Can you remember where we hid it?”

“No.”

Marcus put down the pan and knelt beside Oliver, whispering to him.

“Oh, yes! Oliver disappeared into the living room.

“Are you ready for this?” said Marcus with a laugh.

“I’m very excited.” Abby stuck a spoon into the sauce Marcus had prepared. “Mmm.”

“Just remember I’m not the artist you are.”

“I disagree,” she said, dipping her spoon again.

“Out!” said Marcus, batting her arm with the dish towel.

“Here you are, mummy,” said Oliver, coming into the kitchen and presenting Abby with a smooth, purple pebble the size of her palm. She knelt so she could take it from him.

“That’s lovely, darling,” she said, looking at the plain pebble and wondering why Marcus had talked about being an artist. The loch’s waves had done the smoothing.

“Turn it over,” said Marcus.

Abby turned the pebble and there was a drawing on the other side, a fish outlined in blue paint with blue waves beneath him. His tail was made from crushed shells and he had a tiny shell for an eye. Oliver was watching expectantly for her reaction.

“Wow! Did you do this, Ollie?”

Oliver nodded. “Daddy helped.”

“I think it’s beautiful. I love it, sweetheart, thank you.” She drew him in for a hug, gave him a kiss on his cheek.

“It’s Freddy,” he said, pulling away.

“I can see that. He looks very happy.”

“He has a new house. Come and see.” Oliver took Abby’s hand and led her to the bowl Marcus had set on the bookshelf. They’d made a small wooden house with polished glass for windows and an open door. Marcus had put gravel on the base of the bowl and embedded tiny ferns in it. The fish in question was nowhere to be seen.

“Freddy is a very lucky fish,” said Abby.

“He likes it in his house. He hasn’t come out yet.”

“Maybe he needs a friend. Did you and daddy catch anything today?”

“Daddy caught one but we had to put it back.”

“It was a young trout,” said Marcus. “No good for anything.”

“Next time,” said Abby.

“Are you two ready for dinner, then?” said Marcus as he poured the spaghetti into the sauce and stirred it up.

“We’re having worms!” shouted Oliver, and Abby shook her head in amusement as he rushed to clamber into his seat and wait for his meal.

“We definitely dug him up,” she said to Marcus as she took her own place at the table.

“I’m glad he’s like this,” said Marcus as he set their bowls in front of them and pressed a kiss to Oliver’s head as the boy sucked up a long string of spaghetti.

“You’re glad he thinks he’s a worm?”

“I’m glad he’s not like me,” he said, and he looked at Abby with a pensive expression.

“He’s exactly like you.”

Marcus shook his head as he twirled spaghetti against his spoon. “He doesn’t mind getting dirty and testing things out, even if it is what worms taste like for breakfast.” He laughed softly.

“Didn’t you do things like that when you were his age?”

“You heard Alice. I’ve always hated dirt and mess.”

“I didn’t realise it went that far back.”

Marcus nodded. “I think I was born this way.”

“Is that what your therapist says?”

“The jury’s out. She says it’s more likely to be nurture than nature.”

Abby looked at Marcus as he ate his meal, meticulously winding his spaghetti around his fork until there was no chance of any falling off. He hadn’t talked about his early childhood much before, apart from saying it was strict but happy. She’d imagined him being the same with Oliver but he’d been fairly relaxed so far.

“Daddy, can I have some more juice?”

“Don’t drink it too fast,” Marcus said as he poured the orange into Oliver’s cup.

“Were your parents very tidy?”

“My mum was. She would get annoyed if things were left out or unwashed. Everything had to be tidied away as soon as I was finished with it, and if I didn’t put it away it might well end up in the rubbish. I lost more than a few toys that way.”

“I guess it’s impossible to know if you inherited that from her or you learned the behaviour.”

“That’s why I’m glad Oliver is the way he is. I try not to be too controlling around him.”

Abby reached out, took hold of Marcus’s hand. “I know you do, and he’s thriving. Look at him.”

The both looked at their son who was dangling a piece of spaghetti over his open mouth, sauce dripping onto his chin.

“Perhaps things have gone too far the other way,” Abby said, and they both laughed.

“I’d rather that,” said Marcus.

“He’s fine. I think we strike a good balance. He knows his boundaries.”

“He enjoyed making that pebble for you today. He has your artist’s eye.”

“It’s about the only thing of mine he has.”

“Are you kidding? He looks just like you.”

“We both know that’s not true.”

“You’re all I see when I look at him. Your eyes looking at me, your warm smile, your laughter, your spirit.”

Abby was touched by his words. She didn’t think Oliver was much like her at all, not that it mattered, but it was nice to hear Marcus say it.

“We made a beautiful child,” she said.

“How could we not?” said Marcus with a smug grin.

“Am I bootiful, mummy?” said Oliver, looking at her with his sauce-covered face and his snotty nose that he wouldn’t let her clean.

“You are, sweetheart. Like the pinkest, juiciest worm there’s ever been.”

“I am a juicy worm,” he said, sitting back in his seat, his hand on his belly.

Abby looked at Marcus, who looked back at her. They both smiled.


	5. Small Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby holds a bbq at the holiday park and there's an unexpected visitor

Friday afternoon, and the weather was warm again after two days of rain. Class had ended early as was the tradition on the first Friday, and Abby was sitting on a bench in the picnic area of the holiday park, watching Murphy try to light the coals on the barbeque.

“Will you let me do it?” she said for the third time. “I’ve been lighting fires for six years now.”

“No,” said Murphy also for the third time. “I got it.”

“You need to create space for the air to get through.” Abby had learned this from long experience setting the fire in the log burners in both her homes and it was frustrating watching Murphy make mistakes and struggle.

“Why don’t you go and get the food from the mess, Abby,” said Murphy through gritted teeth.

“Marcus is bringing the burgers and sausages from the butcher,” she said, reluctant to leave him because at this rate they wouldn’t be eating until after Oliver’s bed time.

“What about your famous salad? Don’t you need to make that? No one’s ever eaten it yet but there’s a first time for everything.”

“You cheeky...!” Murphy grinned and Abby couldn’t help but smile in return. “Fine, I’ll take your enormous hint and go and sort out the food in the vague hope we eat sometime this century.”

“It will go a lot easier without you breathing down my neck and judging me.”

“I didn’t know you were so sensitive.” Abby stood, but before she headed for the kitchen she gave Murphy a kiss on the back of his head.

“Urgh! Gerroff!” he said, but she caught a slight raise of his mouth into a smile as he brushed her away.

She’d made the salad and was slicing burger buns in half when the door burst open and Oliver ran in followed by Marcus who was laden down with bags.

“Mummy!” shouted Oliver, and he ran towards her and allowed himself to be picked up.

“I missed you, baby,” said Abby, cuddling him tight for the brief moment he stayed still before he wriggled and she had to set him down. She looked at him. He wasn’t wearing what she’d dressed him in that morning. He had on a onesie with a picture of Fireman Sam rescuing a cat from a tree. “What are you wearing?” Abby glanced at Marcus who opened his mouth to speak but Oliver answered.

“We’ve been to Glazgo,” he said, pronouncing the word the same way Marcus did. Abby used to pronounce it Glassgow, the gow rhyming with cow, the same way she would Moscow, until Marcus educated her in no uncertain terms. “Look what I got!” He gestured to his outfit and looked up at her excitedly. “It’s Fireman Sam!”

“I can see that. Aren’t they pyjamas though?”

“He wanted them in the store, and when we got home he tried them on and now he won’t take them off!” Marcus looked despairingly at Abby. “I’ve tried everything.”

“I love them, mummy,” said Oliver, twirling around so Abby could see him from every angle.

“Okay, well you can wear them until bedtime.”

“Good luck getting them off him,” muttered Marcus, and he handed Abby a bag with a raised eyebrow. “I’ve brought all the meat and some veggie options.”

“Thank you. Did you notice if John had got the barbeque lit when you came past?”

“There was a faint wisp of smoke.”

“He banished me to here. I could have had it lit ten times over by now.” Abby sliced through the last of the buns and added them to the platter.

“That’s my girl,” said Marcus with a smile, and he pressed a kiss to the back of her head.

“Will you play with me, mummy?” said Oliver, tugging at Abby’s jeans.

Abby looked at him. She’d like nothing more but there was too much to do and the students would be out in a few minutes expecting to be fed and there was nothing ready.

“I...”

“Take him to the swings,” said Marcus, “I’ll take this to Murphy. If he hasn’t got the fire properly lit, I’ll give him one of my glares and that will do it.”

Abby laughed. “There’ll be a conflagration if you both stare at each other.”

“Don’t worry about us. Go and play with your son.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Abby kissed his cheek, then she held out her hand to Oliver. “Let’s go to the playground.”

“I want to go on the slide AND the swings,” Oliver said excitedly as he took her hand.

“You can go on whatever you want.”

“Yes!” He punched the air with his small fist, and Abby laughed.

\---

“Higher, mummy, higher!” Oliver’s hands clutched tight at the chain of the swing and he screamed with pleasure as Abby pushed him as high as she dared.

“You’re going to launch into space soon!”

“He’s cute.” Clarke’s voice made Abby look around. The girl was standing at a short distance watching them.

“I didn’t see you there, Clarke. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Clarke moved to stand next to Abby.

“Are you enjoying the course so far?”

Clarke shrugged. “I’m learning a lot.”

“Well, that’s good. That’s the point of it.” Abby looked closely at the girl. She didn’t seem happy. “Isn’t it?”

“Sometimes I don’t know if there is a point.”

“Mummy, keep pushing!” Abby had been surprised by Clarke’s sudden confidence and had momentarily forgotten she was pushing Oliver.

“Sorry, baby.” She started pushing him again, one eye on Oliver, the other on Clarke. “Why do you think that?” she said.

“Cause I’ve fucked up so much of my life.”

“You may have made some mistakes, but you haven’t fucked up your life.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done.”

“Do I need to? You know, when I was thirty-eight my world fell apart, and there were times over the next couple of years when I didn’t think I could come back from it, at least not to the person I was before.” Abby pushed Oliver higher as she thought back to that time. “Three years later everything had changed and in ways I never would have guessed. I’m not the person I was before, but I like to think I’m a better person, wiser, less self-centred, more broad-minded. You’re eighteen. Don’t try to live your life all at once. Just take each day as it comes; that’s what I did.”

“You really don’t care what I’ve done?” Clarke looked Abby squarely in the eye, as though she was looking for the slightest hint that Abby was lying.

“I know enough from your probation officer that you’re not a danger to me or my family, and that’s all I need to know. You’re talented, Clarke, and the art world doesn’t care about your past, only what you do, what you create. You can be anything you want. If you need my help you only have to ask. Our relationship doesn’t have to end once you finish the course. That’s not what this is all about. I won’t walk away from you.”

Clarke nodded, looked down at her feet. “Okay.”

“Mummy, can I go on the roundbout?”

“If you want, sweetheart.” Abby stopped the swing and Oliver jumped off, ran over to the roundabout.

“Get on with him if you want,” said Clarke. “I’ll push it round.”

“Are you sure?”

Clarke shrugged, which Abby took to mean yes. She stood on the roundabout with Oliver, clinging on as Clarke pushed it faster and faster the more Oliver screamed and laughed. When they got off, Abby was unsteady on her feet and Oliver lurched and collapsed into a heap. He emitted a strangled cry and Abby ran to him, her heart thumping, but when she picked him up he wasn’t crying with tears but with laughter.

“I fell,” he said through his giggles.

“You’re a numpty,” Abby said as she set him upright, holding onto him as he swayed.

“I guess I pushed it too fast,” said Clarke looking chagrined.

“I don’t think Oliver’s complaining.”

“Nevertheless, I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need.” Abby linked her arm through Clarke’s, half expecting the girl to pull away, but she didn’t. “Shall we go and see if Murph has got the food ready?”

“Yes!” shouted Oliver, pulling on Abby’s hand to hurry her along.

The smell of grilling meat greeted them long before they got to the barbeque. Murphy was flipping the burgers and Marcus was setting out bowls and plates with the rest of the food.

“Murph!” said Oliver and he ran towards the barbeque.

“Hey little dude. Don’t get too close to the grill else we’ll be having Oliver fingers for tea instead of sausages,” said Murphy, holding Oliver at arm’s length with the end of his spatula.

“You can’t have fingers for tea!” replied Oliver, his mouth round with shock.

“Lemme see.” Murphy put down his spatula, took hold of Oliver’s outstretched hand. “Hmmm. Fat juicy fingers these. Perfect between two slices of bread.”

“Don’t put ideas in his head,” said Marcus with a grimace as Oliver giggled.

“I want fingers for tea, daddy,” said Oliver, and Marcus narrowed his eyes at Murphy who shrugged and grinned.

“You’re having ordinary sausages like me and mummy.”

“Fingers, fingers, fingers!”

“Hey, Oliver,” said Clarke. “I love your outfit. Who’s that on it?”

“Fireman Sam,” said Oliver proudly.

“Oh, cool. Can you tell me about him?”

“He’s a fireman and a hero. He saves people.”

“What’s your favourite thing about him?” Clarke succeeded in distracting Oliver from Murphy and talk of fingers and sausages, and Abby flashed her a grateful smile as she led him away, still chattering about Fireman Sam.

“If he tries to eat his fingers, I’m going to make you eat a part of you you’re probably very fond of,” Marcus said to Murphy with a growl.

“Now, boys,” said Abby. “How’s the food coming along?”

“Pretty much ready,” said Murphy as he moved burgers to the warming plate above the grill.

“I’ll get everyone together, then.” She stood on a bench so everyone could see her. “Grubs up!” she said, and the students came over, loading their plates with burgers, sausages and salad.

Abby drifted amongst them, making sure she chatted to everyone. There was one person missing.

“Where’s Echo?” she said to Bellamy.

“She’s out hunting!” replied Octavia with a look of awe.

“O!” Bellamy admonished his sister with a look. “She’s gone for a walk on the moors,” he said to Abby.

“With her bow and arrow!” said Octavia.

Bellamy nudged Octavia with his elbow. “Just for practice. She won’t shoot anything wild.”

“I hope not,” said Abby. “It’s illegal to hunt with a bow and without the landowner’s permission.”

“She knows that,” said Bellamy, but Abby suspected from the look that passed between him and Octavia that Echo didn’t care a jot for the law.

“I’ll have a talk with her when I next see her.”

Abby spoke a few words to Sinclair and then joined Marcus at a picnic bench. Clarke was entertaining Oliver and Octavia was there, hovering close to them, pretending not to be interested but letting slip the occasional smile when Oliver said something funny.

“Our boy is making friends,” Abby said to Marcus.

“He’s a hit with the ladies.”

“Don’t know where he gets that from.” Abby smirked at Marcus who pretended to be offended.

Indra strode up to them and Abby gestured to the seat next to her. “Join us,” she said.

Indra shook her head. “I’m fine standing.”

“Okay.” Abby hadn’t managed to get close to Indra at all yet, had barely got more than a few words out of the woman. She appeared to be content with the course as far as she could tell.

“He looks just like you,” Indra said to Marcus, nodding in the direction of Oliver.

“Marcus created him in a secret laboratory,” said Abby. “I was merely the gestational carrier.” She smiled at Indra to show she was joking but was met only with a dark stare.

“He’s more like Abby in temperament, thank God,” replied Marcus.

“It is better to be sober than frivolous.”

Abby raised an eyebrow at that remark. Was Indra calling her shallow? She looked at Marcus who pursed his lips and coughed.

“Erm, we want our son to be carefree,” he said.

“The world is a harsh place. Children need discipline.”

“He is disciplined, when it is required.”

Indra looked over at Oliver in reply. Abby and Marcus followed her gaze. He was wiggling his bum at Clarke and Octavia who were encouraging him. Marcus smiled.

“He will be better equipped to face the world if he has a sense of humour.” Marcus sat back with arms folded and contemplated Indra. “Do you have children?”

“A daughter.”

“Oh, how old is she?” said Abby, relieved to have something in common with Indra at last.

“Twenty.”

“Is she like you?”

“No. She is religious. We don’t speak.”

“Oh.”

“Well, religion is often a bone of contention in families,” said Marcus, clearly clutching at straws in this conversation.

“It was not that.” Indra looked at Abby then back at Marcus. “I wanted to speak to you about something actually,” she said.

“Oh, erm, of course. Take a seat.”

Indra looked at Abby again. “Privately.”

Abby could see Murphy striding towards her and gesturing. She raised her hand to him, grateful for the means of escape. “Looks like John needs me. I’ll leave you two alone.” Marcus frowned his disapproval at her for abandoning him with Indra but if the woman wanted to talk to him, what could Abby do? “Keep your eye on Oliver.”

“I will.”

Murphy glanced at Marcus and Indra as he approached. “I need to see you,” he said. “There’s a situation.” He turned towards his caravan and Abby followed.

“What situation?”

“You should watch her,” he said as they walked along the path.

“Who?”

“Indra.”

“Why?”

“She has a thing for your husband.”

Abby stopped, forcing Murphy to stop too. “She does not!”

“She does too. Mark my words.”

“She barely speaks. How can you know?”

“She doesn’t speak to us but she speaks to him. Got him on his own now, hasn’t she?”

Abby looked back towards Indra and Marcus. They were deep in conversation, heads bowed and close together. “You’re being ridiculous.”

Murphy shrugged. “You heard it here first. Apparently, Kane is considered a DILF by the females. The only ones not affected are Sinclair and Bellamy, oh and Echo, who has a thing for Bellamy.”

“What the hell’s a DILF?”

Murphy smiled, and then turned and carried on towards the caravan.

“What’s a DILF, John? And what’s the situation?”

Abby hurried after him, but he didn’t answer her first question, and the answer to the second question became apparent when he ushered Abby into his caravan. Sitting in a chair with her hands spread across her heavily-pregnant belly was a woman with long, brown hair dyed blonde at the ends and piercing blue eyes. She regarded Abby with one perfectly groomed eyebrow arched. It was a look of challenge, and confidence. Abby rarely shrivelled under the glare of scrutiny, she’d been critically appraised most of her adult life, but something about this woman’s stare put her on edge, made her feel defensive.

“Who’s this?” she said more harshly than she’d intended.

“Charmaine,” the woman said. “Charmaine Diyoza.” She started to heave herself out of the chair, but Abby put her hand out.

“Please don’t get up. I know how difficult it can be.”

Charmaine relaxed back into the chair. “You have a child?”

“A son, yes.”

“Ah, how old is he?”

“He’s four, nearly five.”

“A lovely age.”

Abby nodded. “You have other children?”

“Nah, this is my first.”

Abby smiled tentatively. “You have a lot to look forward to.”

“Once I get this damn thing out of me.” She grimaced, and Abby laughed.

“Yes. I remember that feeling. How long do you have to go?”

“Six weeks. Can’t come soon enough.”

Abby turned to look at Murphy, who was getting a glass of water which he handed to Charmaine. “Charmaine is looking for somewhere to stay,” he said.

“Oh, well we’re not open to visitors I’m afraid. Have you tried the Loch Lomond Hotel, or the Lodges?”

“I can’t afford a hotel, and everywhere I’ve tried is booked up.”

“I see. Well, maybe somewhere has had a cancellation. John can ring around for you, see what’s available.”

“I already called a few options. There’s nothing.” Murphy handed Abby a mug of coffee.

“It’s the summer holidays. Everywhere gets booked up months in advance,” Abby said as she sipped her coffee. She knew where this conversation was going, and she wasn’t sure what she wanted to do about it. The safety of her students was her main priority. Allowing someone they didn’t know to stay was a risk. “What about where you stayed last night? You must have stayed somewhere, maybe they can help you?”

Charmaine stared Abby directly in the eye. “Well, the truth is I had a row with my partner. I can’t go back there. Not yet anyway. He can be... well he needs time to calm down. I just need somewhere to stay for a few days, somewhere close by.” She winced as she spoke and rubbed her belly. “She just kicked. She’s feisty.”

“You’re having a girl?”

“So they say.”

Abby sipped her coffee and contemplated Charmaine. There were lines at the edges of her eyes, and dark circles beneath them. She looked to be the same age Abby had been when she had Oliver, and beneath the bold stare she seemed weary, as though it was an effort to put on this mask of fearlessness.

“It’s not that I don’t want you to stay, it’s just I have to consider the group I have here. There are issues of safeguarding, and risk.”

“I understand. I really do.” Charmaine heaved herself out of the chair, and Murphy helped her stand.

“Where will you go?” said Abby.

“There’s nowhere to go. I’ll sleep in my car.”

Murphy looked at Abby. “She can’t sleep in her car,” he said.

“No. No, of course not.” Abby knew how uncomfortable it was at Charmaine’s stage of pregnancy. She’d struggled to find a good way to sleep and she’d had a nice bed and a choice of bedrooms when she disturbed Marcus too much or he her.

“I’ll be here to keep an eye on everything,” said Murphy. “It’s just a couple of days.”

A couple of days with a pregnant woman and a possibly abusive man who could turn up at any moment. Abby knew this situation was fraught with things that could go wrong, but how could she kick this woman out onto the street, to sleep in her car, to have no privacy, nowhere to keep herself clean, no one to help her if she needed it? She sighed.

“I will put it to the group, and if they’re okay with it then you can stay for a couple of days. Murphy will get a caravan ready for you.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you so much, erm, sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“It’s Abby.”

“Thank you, Abby.” Charmaine smiled and Abby smiled back.

“Let’s see what the group says before you thank me.”

\---

The group had no problem with Charmaine staying at the holiday park. Marcus was a different story, but Abby had expected that.

“I still don’t understand why you said yes,” he muttered as they walked home with Oliver running ahead of them.

“Did you see how pregnant she was?”

“We’re not running a maternity hospital.”

“She’s not going to give birth imminently. She has ages to go.”

“I don’t like it, Abby.”

“It’s just for a few days. Murphy will make sure nothing happens.” Abby didn’t have to look at Marcus to know he was rolling his eyes.

“She’d better not be conning us.”

“How is she conning us? The worst she can do is get a few free days holiday out of us. So what? It’s not going to hurt us, is it?”

“I suppose not.”

“Helping the less fortunate is what we do.”

“Yes,” he grumbled.

Abby knew it wasn’t that Marcus didn’t want to help this woman, it was the lack of preparation, structure, organisation. There was no paperwork, no reference, no systematic path from the need being identified to the help being given. It was a struggle for him.

“Do you remember when you went to Manchester with Williams?”

“Yes.” Marcus sighed. He clearly knew where she was going with this and what it would lead to.

“And I thought I’d gone into labour in the supermarket and it was a month too early? You were in the meeting and I couldn’t get hold of you.”

“I remember.”

“What if those lovely people hadn’t helped me? I’d have been alone and scared.”

“I know, I know. You don’t have to remind me.” Marcus had beat himself up for days afterwards, even though it wasn’t his fault, and she hadn’t been in labour in the end. He hadn’t gone far from home after that.

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad, I’m just saying that I was helped when I needed it. This is time to pay that back.”

“I don’t think the two situations compare, but okay. I understand what you mean.”

“I know you do.” Abby linked her arm through his and reached up to kiss him. “It will be fine.”

“You have a big heart,” he said.

“So do you, somewhere.” They grinned at each other, and walked arm in arm behind Oliver, who suddenly stopped, and knelt on the grass verge.

“He must have seen a bug,” said Marcus as they got closer.

“Mummy, daddy, look at this!” Oliver said, his voice high with excitement.

“What is it, baby?”

“A bunny!”

“A bunny?”

Marcus strode ahead and was kneeling beside Oliver when Abby approached. A small brown rabbit was lying on the verge, its legs twitching, its small body heaving with rapid breaths. Oliver reached out to stroke it.

“Don’t touch it,” said Marcus, pulling Oliver into his arms. “I think it’s been hit by a car,” he said to Abby as she bent down to examine it.

“It only looks young,” she said.

“We have to help it, daddy.”

“I think it’s beyond help, squirrel.”

“No!” Oliver looked up at Marcus with tears welling in his eyes.

“It’s still breathing, Marcus,” said Abby.

“I know, but it’s probably in pain. The kindest thing is to help it go to sleep.”

Oliver started crying and wouldn’t stop no matter how much Marcus or Abby cuddled him.

“We could take it to the vet, see what he says,” said Abby as Oliver wept in her arms.

“Yes, take it to the vet, daddy,” he said, suddenly perking up.

Marcus mumbled something under his breath. “Give me one of the food containers,” he said in a louder voice.

Abby handed him the container he’d brought the burgers in, which had been washed.

“Now, gather some flowers and grass and put it in the container.” He gave the container to Oliver who started pulling up plants and stuffing them into the box. “I’m going to examine it first,” said Marcus while Oliver was occupied, and he picked up the rabbit carefully, turning it over. It didn’t make any kind of noise, or much movement at all. “There are no obvious signs of injury, but it could all be internal. I should just kill it, Abby. It’s the most humane thing to do.”

“We can’t do that now. Ollie will be devastated.”

“I know, but the outcome is likely to be the same even if we take it to the vet.”

“Yes, but I’d rather he blamed the vet than you.”

“I suppose that’s right.”

Oliver returned with the box full of bedding and Marcus laid the rabbit inside. “Let’s go and get the car and take it to the vet.”

\---

At the vets, Oliver sat with the box on his knee, clutching it tightly and chattering to the rabbit within, which had not moved, but was still clinging to life.

“This is all going to end in tears,” whispered Marcus.

“I guess he has to learn some time.”

“I found Freddy yesterday, floating. I forgot to tell you.”

“Oh, dear.”

“I got rid of him. Ollie thinks he’s sleeping in his house. I was going to catch another one to replace him.”

“He won’t know the difference.”

“No.”

The young vet came out from the back room, dressed in blue scrubs. He ran a weary hand through his dark hair as he looked around the room. They were the only people there, and he smiled in relief when he saw that.

“How can I help you?”

“We have an injured rabbit,” said Marcus, and he took the box from Oliver and placed it on the counter.

The vet peered inside. “Ah,” he said. “A wee bunny. What’s his name?”

“He doesn’t have a name,” said Marcus.

“Bun Bun!” shouted Oliver.

“We’re not naming the rabbit, Ollie,” said Marcus despairingly.

“That’s his name, daddy.”

“We found him,” Marcus said to the vet. “He’s a wild rabbit.”

“Well, it’s good to have a name for the records.” The vet took out a form and stood poised with his pen ready to write. “And your name is?”

“Kane. Marcus Kane.”

“So it’s Bun Bun Kane, then.” He noted down the name and Marcus turned to look at Abby, his cheeks pink with embarrassment.

“Yes,” he said quietly.

Abby suppressed a laugh. Oliver was tugging on Marcus’s trouser leg.

“Will he get better, daddy?”

“The vet will tell us that.”

“I’ll take a look at him now wee man, okay? You’ve made a lovely bed for him. Great job!” The vet took the rabbit into the back room.

Oliver beamed and settled back onto his seat. Marcus sat next to Abby. “Why Bun Bun?” he said to Oliver. “Couldn’t you have given it a proper name for a rabbit, like Hazel?”

“How is Hazel a proper name for a rabbit?” said Abby.

“Have you never seen Watership Down?”

“No. What’s that?”

“It’s a book and an animated film about rabbits who have to find a new place to live and all the trials they have to face. The hero is called Hazel and he leads the rabbits to a safe warren on Watership Down but not without a lot of struggles and near-death experiences.”

“Sounds traumatic!” said Abby, who had grown up on Disney films where there was usually a lot of singing and nothing happened that couldn’t be resolved.

“It was! I’m still traumatised about Hazel’s death.”

“It doesn’t sound like a good thing to name the rabbit after, Marcus.”

“I’d love Oliver to watch it one day.”

“You want to traumatise our son?”

“It’s a rite of passage for all British children.”

“Hmmm.” Abby wasn’t impressed with the sound of this film. “Maybe I’ll check it out myself first.”

“Really? You’d watch it?” Marcus looked as excited as Oliver.

“Well, yeah, if you’re going to show it our child and potentially scar him for life.”

Marcus ignored her sarcasm. “I’ll see if I can get hold of a copy.”

They waited for the vet, Oliver becoming increasingly impatient and pestering them every minute for an update on Bun Bun. At last, the door from the back room opened and Marcus was up and at the counter before the vet got there.

“It looks as though Bun Bun has been hit by a car,” the vet said. “His leg is broken and there is some other more minor damage. He can’t be returned to the wild I’m afraid.”

“I suspected as much. What can be done?”

“The best thing is to ease him along his journey,” he whispered, glancing at Oliver.

“Okay.”

“Marcus...”

“Daddy? What’s happening with Bun Bun?”

“He’s very poorly, squirrel. The vet will take care of him.”

“Can’t we take care of him?”

“It’s best if the vet does it.”

“No, daddy, please! I love him.” Oliver looked up at Marcus, his eyes wide as saucers.

“You’ve only just met him.”

“We could...” said Abby.

“Don’t say it, Abby,” interrupted Marcus.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s a lot of work, and we said no pets.”

“I want him, daddy.”

“Please, Marcus. He won’t be any trouble. He’s only small.”

“Small things can cause a lot of trouble,” Marcus said, pointing at Abby and then Oliver. He sighed, ran his fingers through his hair. Abby gave him her own wide-eyed look, knowing full well it was unfair on him, but the rabbit was cute, and she liked the idea of Oliver learning to take care of something.

“It will be good for Oliver,” she said.

Marcus looked from his wife to his son, and then to the vet. He closed his eyes for a second, then he opened them with a sigh. “Can you set his leg, ease his pain while he recovers?”

“I can help him, yes, but he’ll never be able to run around properly like a rabbit.”

“If all he can do is wriggle like a worm my son will love him. Can you sort him out now? I’ll pay.”

“I’ll take care of it.” The vet disappeared again and Marcus looked at Abby.

“This one’s on you,” he said.

Abby put her arms around him. “You’re a wonderful man. I love you so much.”

“Hmmm,” Marcus said, but she felt him smile into her hair.

“I love you too, daddy.”

Marcus bent down and picked Oliver up. “You’re going to look after Bun Bun, help him get better.”

“I will.”

“Good boy. I suppose we’ll have to make him a house as well now!”

“Yes. He can live with Freddy.”

Marcus laughed. “Rabbits don’t live in water. He needs a big wooden house and a special area he can hop around in.”

“We can do it, daddy.”

“We’ll have to,” Marcus said, running his fingers through Oliver’s dark curls.

Half an hour later they were back on the road with a drowsy rabbit in his box on Abby’s lap, a bag of straw, and an excited Oliver chattering about all the things he would do to help Bun Bun.

“This house is turning into a menagerie,” said Marcus as they pulled into the driveway.

“It’s one rabbit and a tiny fish.”

“For now. You two twist me around your little fingers,” he said, ushering Oliver into the house.

“And we love you for it.” Abby followed them out to the patio, putting the rabbit’s box down on the wooden floor.

They sat on the chairs as Oliver waved a piece of grass under the rabbit’s nose, trying to tempt him awake.

“There are a lot of lessons he can learn from this,” said Marcus.

“Yes,” said Abby as she lay back and closed her eyes, enjoying the warm sun on her face. “How to take care of needy things.”

“I hope you’re not referring to me,” said Marcus, his voice warm and full of fake indignation.

“Never,” said Abby, and she reached out and squeezed his hand.

“I think he’s awake!” said Oliver.

“Daddy will help you,” said Abby, keeping her eyes closed so she couldn’t see Marcus’s face. He pinched her hand, and she smiled.


	6. Castle Kane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Kanes enjoy family time at the beach, and then some alone time ;)

Saturday morning and Abby woke to an empty bed. She checked the time. Eight o’clock, so Marcus had let her have a lie-in. She felt bright and rested, and ready for the day ahead. She padded downstairs, expecting to see Marcus and Oliver in the living room or having breakfast on the balcony but the house was silent. Maybe they’d gone down to the shore to fish.

Abby brewed a pot of coffee and sat out on the balcony sipping it while she watched the ducks. In the distance was the faint roar of a jet ski, so someone was out early on the water. She’d finished her coffee by the time Marcus and Oliver came through the door.

“Morning, mummy,” said Oliver, his face red and his eyes bright.

“Morning, darling. Where’ve you been?”

“We’ve got stuff for Bun Bun’s house.”

“That’s nice.” Abby had forgotten about the rabbit. “How’s Bun Bun doing?”

“He ate some grass.”

“We’ve been to the caravan park,” said Marcus as he took a seat opposite Abby. “There was a store of old wood so I’ve brought it back. Next week while you’re at work we’ll make a hutch for the rabbit.”

“He’ll have the best house in Scotland, mummy!”

“I have no doubt he will with you and daddy making it.”

Oliver disappeared into the house and came back with the box containing the rabbit. He set it down on the floor, reached in and stroked its fur. Abby peered inside. The rabbit was definitely awake, his nose twitching, his tiny leg wrapped in a white bandage. He was sitting at an odd angle with his leg splayed out to the side. Oliver gave him a blade of grass and he nibbled at it.

“He’s doing well already,” said Marcus. “I gave him his painkillers this morning. He seems happy enough.”

Abby looked at him, and a flood of emotion overcame her, leaving her with a lump in her throat. She got up, went across and sat on his knee, putting her arms around his neck and kissing him until her heart was racing and Marcus was trying hard to supress a moan with Oliver in earshot.

“What was that for?” he said when she freed him from her grasp.

“I just love you a lot.”

Marcus put his arms around her waist, keeping her on his knee. “I love you too. What does the love of my life want to do today?”

“Shall we go to the beach? I fancy some sand and sea.”

“Where to? Helensburgh?”

“It’s a bit shingly. What about Lunderston Bay?”

“Okay. We could call into the picture framers on the way back, pick up the photo of Oliver I took yesterday.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Are you having any breakfast?”

“I’ll grab some toast after I’ve got Oliver dressed.”

Marcus shook his head. “He won’t change out of the Fireman Sam outfit.”

“He will. I’ll tempt him with his dinosaur t-shirt.”

“I’ve already tried that.”

Abby looked at Marcus sceptically. He can’t have tried too hard. Oliver loved his dinosaur t-shirt. “I’ll sort him out.”

“I’ll put some toast on for you.” Marcus looked at her with a knowing grin, which made Abby more determined.

“Ollie. We’re going to the beach. Come and get ready with me.”

“Can we take Bun Bun?”

“No, darling. He has to rest.”

“I want to take him.”

“I know you do, but you want him to get better, don’t you?”

Oliver nodded. “Well, then he needs his sleep. Come on.” She took his hand and led him up the stairs to his bedroom. “Let’s get you out of that sleep suit and into your t-shirt and shorts.”

“I don’t want to wear a t-shirt.” Oliver wriggled away from her grasp and headed for the door. Abby managed to get to it and put her foot against it before he wandered out.

“You can’t go out in your pyjamas.”

“Daddy let me.”

“Daddy shouldn’t have. Come on, Oliver.” Abby tried to unzip the onesie, but he wouldn’t let her near him.

“I want to wear Fireman Sam.”

“You can. You have a Fireman Sam t-shirt.” Abby went to his drawer, pulled out a shirt that was a year old and getting to be a tight fit. “Here you go.”

“No.”

“Oliver, you’re not wearing pyjamas to the beach.”

Oliver ignored her, went to his bed and picked up his dinosaur. “I’m taking Saur with me.”

Abby shook her head. “No. You’re not going anywhere until you’ve changed your clothes.”

Oliver looked at her, his face set into a pout she recognised because it belonged to her. “I don’t want to get changed, mummy,” he said, tears welling.

Abby was flummoxed. He hadn’t disobeyed her to this extent before. “You want to go to the beach, don’t you, and play in the sea?”

Oliver nodded, a fat tear slipping down his cheek.

“Then get changed and we’ll go.”

“I don’t want to.”

Abby put her hands on her hips, looked at him in desperation. If she gave in now then he would have won and he’d try it again. On the other hand, if she stuck to her guns there was no beach for her as well, and she needed some sea air.

“How’s it going?” said Marcus, making her jump.

“He won’t get changed.”

“I told you.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Let him wear it.”

Abby frowned at Marcus. “But then he’s won. Won’t we be undermined?”

“I’ve done some brief research. It’s not about defying us. It probably makes him feel secure.”

“Why does he feel insecure?”

Marcus shrugged. “Why do any of us? He feels good in it, confident. It’s not the end of the world.”

Abby looked at Oliver playing happily with his dinosaurs now that he wasn’t subject to her pestering.

“Are you sure?”

“As sure as I am with any of this.” Marcus laughed.

“How long will this last?”

“Could be days.”

“He’ll start to smell!”

“When we go to Glasgow I’ll get him another one the same and when he has a bath we’ll swap it. He’ll never know.”

“That’s devious. I love it!”

“I wasn’t in charge of a prison full of young men without learning some devious behaviour, you know.” Marcus smiled.

“I always did like that side of you.”

“I still have it,” he said in a low growl.

“You’ll have to show me tonight.”

“Count on it.” Marcus leaned in and kissed her. “Okay, Oliver,” he said. “Let’s go to the beach.”

\---

The car park was full when they arrived at the beach, and it was ten minutes until a space opened up. Marcus grimaced as they walked towards the sand.

“There’s too many people.”

“It’s a hot Saturday in July. Did you think we’d be the only ones here?”

“No, but, it’s just a lot of people.”

“Well, if you keep that face on you no one will sit anywhere near us, so you’ll be fine.”

Marcus pulled his face into a number of different poses, making Abby laugh. “I’m sure we can find a quiet spot,” she said.

They had to walk the length of the bay to find a less populated area close to the rocks, and Marcus staked out their territory with a windbreaker and a line of chairs.

“God forbid anyone should want to talk to us,” said Abby with a laugh as she laid out a blanket in front of the chairs and put her bags on it.

“I socialised last night,” Marcus said. “That’s my quota fulfilled for the weekend.”

“Oliver and I are honoured that you grace us with your presence.”

“As you should be.” Marcus grinned as he got Oliver’s buckets and spades out of a bag. “Right, Ollie. Are we building a sandcastle?”

“Yes! Can we have a moat, daddy?”

“I think we can have a big moat, maybe two.”

“I want two moats and a tower.”

“Okay then.”

“I’ll gather some shells to decorate it,” said Abby, and she roamed the shoreline looking for the nicest specimens for the sandcastle. The tide wasn’t too far out and she slipped off her sandals and walked through the shallows, the sand soft between her toes, the water warm as it lapped her ankles. She picked up razor shells, cockles, periwinkles and a beautiful sea urchin striped with different purples. She put them in her bag and returned to her boys.

The castle had grown significantly. It had circular turrets and castellated walls. Marcus was in the process of digging a moat around it and Oliver was bringing buckets of water to pour into the channel, but the water soaked in almost instantly.

“The water keeps disappearing,” he said sadly.

“We need to dig a channel from that stream to here and then it will fill up.”

“This all looks great!” Abby emptied the shells on the sand and Oliver came over to root through them.

“This is for the flag,” he said, picking up the razor shell and sticking it onto the top of the highest turret.

“Where shall we put the rest?”

“We need windows and doors for the people to get in.”

“We can do that.”

They stuck the shells around the turrets and embedded them into the walls. Marcus had dug a feeder channel from the stream to the moat but had kept it dammed at the top.

“Do you want to let the water in, Ollie?” he said.

“Yes!”

Marcus handed him the spade and pointed to the sand block. “Just dig that away.”

Oliver dug at it frantically, flinging sand everywhere.

“Slow down,” said Marcus but in vain, because the boy was too excited.

One last fling of the spade and the water came through. Oliver jumped up and down and then ran around the castle following the water as it flowed.

“It’s so cool!” he said with glee.

“You are very clever, Ollie,” said Abby, “and so is daddy.”

“I know!” he said, puffing out his small chest with pride.

“Castle Kane,” said Marcus as he stuck a folded piece of paper in the shape of a flag into the razor shell. “None shall pass. Shall we get a picture of us?”

He placed his camera on the rock and set the timer. They knelt on the sand in front of the sandcastle, Marcus with his arm around Abby who was holding Oliver tight so he couldn’t wriggle. They smiled as the camera’s shutter clicked. Marcus went across and checked the image.

“Perfect,” he said, and he showed it Abby.

“You’ll have to email that to me. I want it as my screensaver.”

“I’ll Bluetooth it to you now.” He took her phone and pressed some buttons on his camera and within a few seconds the picture was on Abby’s mobile. She set it as her home screen.

“I love it.”

She and Marcus settled into their chairs while Oliver dug channels all over the sand, sending the water in every direction.

“What did Indra want with you yesterday?” Abby said as she pulled out an orange and handed it to Marcus.

“She’s trying to get work with the Prison Reform Trust and she wants my help.”

“And that requires talking to you alone?”

Marcus peeled his orange, popped a segment into his mouth and ate it. “I guess it’s personal for her, and she knows I worked in the prison service, so it makes sense to ask me for help.”

“What do you make of her?”

“I like her. She’s very direct.”

“She’s direct alright.” Abby huffed as she ate her own orange.

Marcus looked at her amused. “You didn’t like her calling you frivolous last night.”

“Damned cheek!”

“I don’t think she meant to be rude.”

“I think she knew exactly what she was saying. You’re a serious man with an important job and I’m a shallow frivolous woman who paints.”

“That is NOT what she said, Abby!”

“It’s what it sounded like.”

Marcus shook his head. “What’s the matter? You don’t usually take things like that to heart.”

Abby didn’t answer him at first. She hadn’t meant to reveal her feelings about Indra in this way, hadn’t realised she had such feelings until the words were out.

“You know you’re a brilliant, intelligent woman. You don’t need me or anyone else to tell you that,” Marcus said when she still hadn’t answered him.

“I know.”

“Then what is it?”

“Nothing. She just got my back up.”

“I think you read too much into it. She’s brusque that’s all.”

“I can handle brusque,” Abby said looking at Marcus with a sly smile.

“I know you can. You got me under control.” He took her hand, rubbed his thumb against hers. “You know I’m in awe of you every day, don’t you?”

Abby looked at him, at his twinkling eyes and warm smile he only gave to her and Oliver.

“The most extraordinary woman,” he said, and he bent down so he could kiss the back of her hand.

“Stop it,” Abby said, but she was smiling.

“I want orange, mummy.” Oliver appeared before them, breaking the spell.

“Please,” said Marcus.

“Please.”

Abby peeled him an orange and he sat on the blanket while he ate it.

“We are blessed,” she said to Marcus.

“We are.” Marcus settled back into his chair, still holding Abby’s hand.

Abby watched Oliver as he picked off strings of pith before popping another segment into his mouth. She felt silly for her momentary jealousy of Indra and her blossoming friendship with Marcus. He had so few people he liked. It would be churlish of her to tell him what Murphy had said, to spoil it in any way. She’d have to get used to sharing him a little, and it was only for three more weeks.

“Can I go in the sea, please?” Oliver said when he’d finished his orange. He was standing in front of them, one hand on Marcus’s knee, the other on Abby’s, looking up at them both, so he meant business.

“You’ll have to take off your pyjamas,” Abby said.

“Oh.”

Abby didn’t say anything else, and neither did Marcus. Oliver stood looking from one to the other.

“Why?”

“Because you’ll be wet, and you can’t sit around in wet clothes all day.”

“I’ll dry,” he said, to which Abby had no answer.

“Not quickly enough,” said Marcus. “I thought we could go to the ice cream parlour afterwards, but you can’t if you’re wet. They won’t let you in.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Yes.” Marcus sat back, picked up a book and pretended to read it. Abby looked away because the sight of their son thinking his options through was making her want to cry and she wasn’t sure why.

“Can I put it back on afterwards?”

Marcus looked at Oliver over his book. “Yes.”

“Okay then.” He presented his back to Abby who smiled as she unzipped him and helped him step out of the onesie. She took off his underpants and replaced them with his swimming shorts. Then she slathered him with waterproof sun cream.

“Now you’re all ready.”

“Come on then, mummy.” He grasped her hand and Abby got up from her chair.

“Don’t you want daddy to come with you?”

“I want you.”

“Okay.”

“You two go,” said Marcus. “I want to finish this chapter anyway.” He put on his glasses and picked up his book.

Abby let Oliver lead her to the shore, turning once to look back at Marcus. He was watching them, and she waved at him. He waved back.

Oliver ran towards the sea, then ran back again screaming as the water hit his feet.

“Cold!” he shouted.

“We’ll go in together,” said Abby, and she held his hand as the next wave splashed over them. Oliver hopped from foot to foot as the water swirled around him.

After a few minutes paddling in the shallows he wanted to go further in. Abby looked around. There were a couple of kids and their father a hundred yards or so away but no one too close. She tucked her sundress into her knickers and waded further into the water.

“Are you going to swim towards me?”

“I’m going to be Freddy and you have to catch me.”

“Okay. I bet I can catch you easily.”

“I bet you can’t.”

Oliver flopped onto his stomach and splashed around in the shallows before he found his rhythm and started to half swim, half float in the water. Abby splashed behind him, making a lot of noise, pretending to hunt him. They played like that for a while, until she finally scooped him up and dangled him upside down over the water.

“I’ve got you on my hook now, little fish,” she said.

Oliver laughed and splashed at the water with his hands. Abby swung him around in a circle and he trailed his hands through the water as he went.

“Let me go, mummy, let me go!” he said and she lowered him gently into the water. He ran up and down in the shallows, picking up seaweed and shells and then throwing them back again. Then as quickly as the urge to go in the water had come upon him, he was off up the beach towards their camp, leaving Abby to run after him.

Marcus poked his head over the top of his book as they approached. His glasses slipped down his nose and he appraised Abby over the top of them.

“Very sexy,” he said, and Abby looked down at herself. She still had her dress tucked into her knickers, and there was sand all over her bare legs.

“You like?” she said as she twirled in front of him.

“Very much.”

She stepped closer to him and he ran his hand up the back of her leg, sending shivers through her body.

“I was a fish and mummy caught me,” said Oliver.

“She’s good at catching things,” said Marcus. “It’s how she hooked daddy.”

“You were easy to catch,” she said with a grin.

“When the fisherman is as lovely as you, the fish has no choice but to jump on the hook.”

Abby groaned. “That’s really terrible.”

“Nevertheless, it’s true.”

“How did mummy get me, daddy?” said Oliver.

“Well...” said Marcus.

“Don’t you dare!” said Abby.

Marcus grinned. “Mummy and daddy made you together.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because we love each other a lot, and we didn’t know it at the time, but we needed a little squirrelly worm in our lives.”

“Liam at school has a baby sister.”

“Does he?” said Marcus.

“Yes. Are you and mummy making another me?”

Marcus worried his lip before he answered. “No. You’re the only squirrel we need.”

“Okay good, ‘cause Liam’s sister smells and poops ALL THE TIME!”

“You don’t want that.”

“No.” Oliver picked up his bucket and spade and went off to make more sandcastles.

Abby sat back in her chair. “You handled that well.”

“Just wait until we loved each other isn’t enough of an answer.”

“I don’t even want to think about it.”

“There’s time yet.”

“Yes,” said Abby. “Plenty of time.”

\---

They got through lunch without Oliver remembering to put his onesie back on. He’d persuaded Marcus to buy him a beach ball from the store and Abby was sketching them as they played catch together. Marcus was dressed only in his black shorts, his broad chest already turning a deeper brown after a week spent mostly outdoors. She drew his muscles as he stretched to reach the ball, firm but sinuous. He still had barely an ounce of fat on him, whereas Abby had gained two pounds from her lack of activity during the week and his rich cooking. She’d decided they were going for a long walk on Sunday so she could exercise some of it off. She had plans for some exercise of a different kind that night as well. It had been three days since they’d made love. The first night disrupted by Oliver sleeping with them, and the second two because she was too damned tired.

Marcus’s touch to the back of her leg earlier had lit the flame in her, and looking closely at his body as he moved was adding fuel to the fire. With any luck Oliver would be tired after a day of activity and they’d be able to have an early night. She mentally stripped Marcus of his shorts as she watched him, could imagine all too well what was underneath them, the heavy weight of his cock, the way it hung slightly to the left. She thought about holding it, feeling it pulse and swell in her grasp as his desire grew. She let out a long, slow breath. This was the only downside to having a child. The only one. Before Oliver she could have taken Marcus to their car, driven somewhere private, fucked him until they were both crying out.

Marcus turned to look at her as though he could sense what she was thinking. He smiled, waved. Abby held up a sweaty palm, gave him a brief wave in return. Did he have these thoughts? All the time probably. She was throbbing now, and she crossed her legs but that made it worse. She uncrossed them, straightened her sundress. Maybe she should go and play ball with them, take her mind off it. She was about to get up when a blonde boy similar in age to Oliver appeared.

“Can I play?” he said.

“Yes,” said Oliver.

“Who are you?” said Marcus, standing with his hands on his hips.

“Joshua.”

“Where’ve you come from, Joshua?”

The boy pointed to a young man who was striding towards them. “That’s my daddy.”

“Sorry about this,” said the young man. “He just wants to play. It’s okay isn’t it?”

Abby watched as Marcus looked the young man up and down, appraising him, judging him probably. “Yes. As long as he’s good.”

The man frowned. “He will be.” He glanced at Abby who had got up from her chair. She smiled at him.

“Okay, then,” said Marcus, and he stood staring at the man until he backed away.

“Erm, right. I’ll be over there. Be good, Joshua,” he said.

“Do you want to play footy?” Joshua said to Oliver.

“Yes if you want.”

“Okay. I’m Scotland. You’re England.”

“I’m Scotland too,” said Oliver.

“Not in this game.” Joshua kicked the ball and Oliver ran after it. Marcus strode over to Abby.

“Making friends are you?” she said.

“Haha,” said Marcus.

“At least it gives us a break if he has a little friend.”

“True.” Marcus sank into his chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

“I was watching you earlier,” said Abby.

“I noticed.”

“I drew you.”

“Let me see.”

She showed him the sketch. “I was trying to capture your movement.”

“Damn, I’m hot,” he said with a smirk.

“You are,” Abby said. “I got hot watching you.”

Marcus looked at her, his eyebrow arched. “Did you?”

“Yeah. I thought we’d have an early night tonight, if we can.”

Marcus shuffled his chair closer to Abby’s. He put his hand on her knee, traced soft circles in her flesh, his fingers pushing her dress up no more than a centimetre, but it was enough to set her on fire.

“Stop that,” she said with a moan.

“No,” he said, and leaned across and kissed her while his hand caressed her skin.

She indulged herself in him for a moment, her hands holding his head close while she kissed his lips, traced a line over his cheek and across his nose to the other side, her tongue flicking out to taste the salt of his skin. “I want you,” she whispered, and he groaned. She let him go with a sigh, turned her attention back to Oliver who was running towards them.

“We need you to play, daddy,” he said.

“Erm, mummy will have to go with you.”

“Me?” Abby looked at him with a frown.

“Yes, just for a minute. I can’t exactly get up just yet.” He looked down at his lap and then back up at Abby.

“Oh. Oh, right, yes. I’ll come and play, Ollie.”

She followed Oliver to where Joshua was waiting with the ball, and after a couple of minutes Marcus joined them. Abby ended up on team England with Oliver and they lost 5-2 to Scotland.

“Never mind,” she said to Oliver as they packed up their things later. “It’s probably the only time Scotland will beat England at anything.”

“I heard that,” said Marcus as he folded the chairs and packed the windbreaker away.

Oliver was back in his Fireman Sam onesie. Abby had tried to put another t-shirt on him but he hadn’t been fooled.

“You promised,” he said, and they had, which was why they were heading to the ice cream parlour after they’d put their things in the car.

Abby chose bubblegum ice cream and Oliver had chocolate chip. Marcus picked honeycomb crunch and they sat on a bench overlooking the bay while they ate them.

“Have you had a good day, Ollie?” said Abby as she wiped some chocolate from his face before it dribbled onto his onesie.

“The best,” he said.

“Me and mummy had a day at the beach a long time ago, you know, Ollie,” said Marcus. “It’s where I won your squirrel for her.”

“That was the best day as well,” said Abby, and she licked her ice cream and looked at Marcus suggestively.

“I especially enjoyed the pier,” said Marcus.

“Me too. We had a lot of fun that day.”

“We did.”

“Did you have ice cream?” Oliver hoovered a chocolate chip into his mouth as he looked at Marcus.

“Mummy did have something to suck, yes.”

“Marcus!” Abby batted his arm. He grinned at her.

“A lollipop?”

“Yes, a big lollipop.”

“I like ice cream better.”

“So does daddy.” Marcus licked his ice cream and stared at Abby.

“Okay,” said Abby, deciding to end this conversation before she laughed so hard she peed herself. “Finish your ice creams, toilet, then we have to make a couple of stops before we get home.

“You’re incorrigible,” she said to Marcus after they’d fastened Oliver into his car seat and before they got into the car themselves.

“He doesn’t know what we mean.”

“I know, but still.”

“It’s your fault. You shouldn’t have kissed me like you did earlier. Now you’ve got me hot and bothered too.”

“We’d better get home as quick as possible then.”

“You need to entertain him in the car, make sure he doesn’t fall asleep. If he does, we’re screwed for the rest of the night.”

Abby spent the journey home reading with Oliver, singing, playing I-Spy, everything she could think of to keep him awake. It worked, because he stayed up long enough to eat his dinner, then drifted off while she was getting him ready for bed, and she tucked him in and kissed him softly so she wouldn’t disturb him. She fastened the toddler gate at the top of the stairs so if he woke they would hear him but he couldn’t get downstairs without their help. It was the only way to guarantee privacy as the house was so open plan.

She crept downstairs to Marcus. “He’s out like a light,” she said.

“Thank God for that.” He held out a glass of wine to her. “Drink before bed, Mrs Kane?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Abby took a long draught of her wine. “Ah, that’s so good.” She put a mixed CD on the stereo and Van Morrison poured out of the speakers. She turned it lower so it wouldn’t disturb Oliver.

“You know how we were talking about Blackpool today?” Marcus wandered out onto the deck and Abby followed him.

“Yes.”

“Would you ever have imagined then we’d end up like this?”

“I spent most of that weekend trying to decide whether to make us an official couple.” Abby leant on the balcony, looked out over the shimmering water.

“I remember. I was hopeful you would.”

“I know you were.”

Marcus turned to her. “I’d never felt about anyone the way I felt about you. I lost my head over you.” He laughed softly.

“In the best way, though.”

“Yes.”

Abby looked up at him. Time hadn’t changed him much physically. He was greying around the temples, but still handsome, still cocky, still so much love in his eyes when he looked at her.

“Dance with me,” she said.

“What?”

“Dance with me.” She took his glass and put it with hers on the table, then she led him into the living room.

“Abby...”

He hated dancing, but she didn’t let that stop her when she was in the mood. “Shush.” Eva Cassidy’s _Songbird_ was playing, and Abby guided Marcus’s arms around her waist and put hers around his neck. They swayed gently to the music. “See, it’s easy,” she said.

“Only you could get me to do the things you do,” he said.

“I’m good for you, remember?”

“You are.”

They kissed, and Marcus’s hands moved lower, cupping her arse, pressing her to him. Abby’s pulse picked up as he caressed the hem of her dress, fingertips brushing against her bare skin, bringing to life the ghost trails of his touch from earlier in the day which still had heat in them. Abby moaned. She ran her fingers through the short hairs on his head, bringing him closer to her so she could get her tongue deep into his mouth, taste every part of him. Her desire for him was still as young, still as fresh, as the day she’d first met him, and made all the sweeter by the state of constant anticipation she had to live in since Oliver.

“This is not really dancing,” she said when they came up for air.

“It’s the kind of dancing I like,” replied Marcus as he kissed her hair.

“We were always good at this kind of dancing.”

“The best,” he said, tracing the bones of her face with his fingertips, his thumb rubbing against her bottom lip. He kissed her softly there. Elvis started singing _Can’t Help Falling in Love with You._ “Our song,” Marcus whispered, and he wrapped his arms tight around her. Abby nestled her head in the crook of his neck.

He crooned the words softly in her ear, his deep voice vibrating against her cheek, his breath soft and warm. Abby’s heart swelled so much it was beating hard against her ribs. She pulled him in tighter. They swayed together for the length of the song, lost in each other, everything and everyone else momentarily forgotten.

“I love you so much,” Abby whispered when the song was over.

“You’re my everything,” Marcus murmured. “Always will be.”

They kissed again, harder this time, more urgently. Marcus ran his hands up the backs of her legs, his fingers skirting the hem of her underwear, pushing beneath the material. He squeezed her cheeks, ran his middle finger between them, along her slit, and Abby groaned, pushed back against him. His finger slipped inside her and then out again, rubbing around her entrance.

Abby pulled on the zip of Marcus’s pants, yanked it down, put her hand inside, caressed the swell of his cock. “Ah, I want you, I want you,” she said, and then suddenly they were both frantically fumbling with their clothes, Marcus tugging his pants and underwear off, Abby pulling her dress over her head. Marcus hooked his thumbs in her knickers and dragged them down. He lifted her, pressed her against the wall, teased her by rubbing his cock up and down her slit until Abby could take it no more and grabbed hold of him, guiding him inside her.

“God,” she said, and let out a long sigh of pleasure.

“Yes, yes.” Marcus held her legs as wide apart as he could so he could get deep within her, and she clung to him as he pushed her against the wall over and over. The sensual drums and violins of Van Morrison’s _And the Healing Has Begun_ provided the rhythm to their fucking, which got faster as the drums got louder. Abby reached down, stroked her clit. She was superheated, her sex on fire as Marcus ground his pelvis against her.

She cried out when she came, unable to suppress the sound, and Marcus groaned deeply as he followed her. They stood there against the wall, breathing heavily.

“I needed that,” wheezed Abby.

“God, me too. When you kissed me at the beach today I thought I would explode. You have to stop doing things like that.”

“I can’t help it when you’re half-naked in public. It does things to a girl.”

Marcus laughed, and he withdrew from her reluctantly and set her down on shaky legs. He kissed her, and they swayed in each other’s arms again, finishing their dance. 

Marcus sighed when they parted. He picked up his shorts and pants. “I’ll check on Oliver while I get cleaned up,” he said, and disappeared up the stairs. Abby cleaned up in the downstairs bathroom, put her sundress back on so she was decent if Oliver was awake and came down with Marcus. She needn’t have worried.

“He’s still fast asleep,” said Marcus when he returned. “Snoring away.”

Abby smiled. “Bless him. I thought the banging might have woken him.”

“Nothing much wakes him when he’s exhausted.”

“He’s like you for that.”

Marcus nodded and smiled. He stroked Abby’s face with the back of his fingers. “Do you want some supper?”

“Something light maybe.”

“Take the wine out onto the deck. I’ll bring you something.”

Abby nursed her glass of wine, sipping it slowly until Marcus appeared with poached eggs on toast. They chatted while they ate the simple meal, making plans for the next day. Abby wanted to go for a walk so Marcus got his Ordnance Survey map out when they retired to the living room so he could plan a route that Oliver could manage.

“I haven’t finished with you yet,” he said as they snuggled up on the sofa.

“What do you have in mind?” Abby said.

“Wait and see.” He switched on the television and they picked a movie to watch together.

Abby woke three hours later to darkness and the TV talking to itself having switched to another programme. Marcus was snoring gently next to her. She nudged him awake.

“Time for bed,” she said, and he followed her dozily up the stairs.

She was falling asleep in his arms when she remembered they had unfinished business. Tomorrow night, she said to herself. Tomorrow night she’d find out what else he’d had in store for her.


	7. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby and Marcus witness something strange while out on a walk.

The next day was bright and warm, the sky a cloudless blue. The heather crunched beneath their feet as Abby, Marcus and Oliver trekked over the moors. They stopped to take their lunch at a small lochan, disturbing a black grouse that flew out of a patch of purple moor grass with a crash of wings that startled Oliver into a cry.

Marcus swam in the lochan while Oliver and Abby paddled in the shallows. They lazed on the softer grass afterwards, the sun too warm for even Oliver to run around in. He made up a game where he was hunting his dinosaurs through the long grass. Marcus lay on his back staring up at the sky and Abby curled into him, her head on his bare chest.

“I could stay like this forever,” she said.

“Hmm,” he murmured as he stroked her hair.

They managed fifteen minutes of peace where the only sound was Oliver’s chatter and the plaintive cry of a distant curlew. Then silence descended and a shadow fell over them. Abby looked up to see Oliver standing over her with his hands on his hips in a pose so reminiscent of his father it made Abby smile.

“Can we go now?” he said. “Bun Bun will be missing me.”

“Bun Bun will be fine,” muttered Marcus.

“He told me not to be long,” said Oliver in all seriousness.

Marcus opened one eye and squinted at Oliver. “Did he really?”

Oliver nodded.

“Do you think he’ll mind if we go back via the cave?” said Marcus. “I thought we could explore it some more.”

The cave was something they’d found on the last day of their Easter holiday and hadn’t had time to examine properly, much to Marcus’s annoyance.

“Oh, that will be fun, Oliver,” said Abby. “You can tell Bun Bun all about it when you get home.”

He stood and thought for a second, still with his hands on his hips. Abby glanced at Marcus whose lips were twitching in an effort not to laugh and she had to look away again.

“Okay,” said Oliver with a big sigh.

Marcus sat up and reached for his t-shirt, pulling it over his head. “Get your toys together then, and we’ll get going.”

Oliver packed his things in his backpack and Abby helped him put his arms through the straps. She adjusted it so it sat comfortably. “There you go,” she said, and Oliver put his thumbs behind the straps to hold them and set off after Marcus. Abby followed behind, watching his pack bounce as he stumbled through the tussocks in a bid to catch up with his dad.

“Slow down, Marcus!” she shouted, and Marcus turned, waited for Oliver and then they walked across the moor side by side. Oliver grew tired after half an hour of walking so Marcus let him clamber on his back and ride piggyback style the rest of the way to the cave. Abby shouldered Marcus’s backpack.

“What the heck have you got in here?” she said, sagging under the weight of it.

“I’m prepared for any emergency,” said Marcus.

“We’re less than two miles from home,” Abby said, adjusting the length of the backpack’s straps so it was more comfortable.

“You never know. Anyway, if you think that’s heavy you should try carrying forty-five pounds of child on your back.

“Oliver could fit in this backpack and there’d still be room to spare.”

“I do miss the baby carrier,” said Marcus, pulling on Oliver’s hands where they were clasped around his neck. “Try not to strangle daddy, Oliver!”

“Sorry, daddy.”

“It’s okay, son.”

They trudged across the moor, bending under the weight of their respective burdens. As they neared the hollow where the cave lay Marcus put his hand up and stopped.

“What’s up?” said Abby.

“There’s someone there already.”

“Oh!” Abby walked to the edge of the ridge and looked down. Three men were standing near the entrance, talking. As they watched a fourth man came out of the cave. He spoke to the others and two of the men went inside. They were carrying shovels over their shoulders.

“What are they doing?” said Abby.

“I don’t know. Maybe they’re archaeologists.”

“What’s an arkylologist?” said Oliver.

“It’s someone who finds old things from the past.” Marcus put Oliver down and handed him to Abby who took hold of his hand. “I’ll go and speak to them. Wait here.”

He started to make his way down the slope towards the ground when he suddenly stopped, looked through his binoculars for a second and then scrambled quickly back up again. “Get down!” he said, his voice quiet but urgent.

“What?” His command was so unexpected Abby didn’t move.

“Lie down! Quickly!” Marcus pulled Abby down onto the heather and she gathered Oliver to her, holding him tight against her breast.

“What’s happening, mummy?” he said, his voice quivering.

“We’re playing a game, darling,” she said, stroking his curls. “What’s going on?” she whispered to Marcus.

“Wait here,” he said, and then he crawled on his belly towards the edge and looked over.

“What game are we playing, mummy?” Oliver’s eyes were brimming with tears when she looked down at him. He must be picking up on her fear and confusion, and Marcus’s tone had been harsh, something he never was with her or Oliver.

“We’re dinosaurs and someone is trying to capture us. We have to stay very still as long as possible so they don’t find us. Daddy is guarding us.”

“Oh! I’m Saur.”

“Yes, you be Saur. I’ll be mummysaurus.”

“There isn’t a mummysaurus. That’s silly.”

“Okay, who shall I be?”

Abby distracted Oliver with talk about dinosaurs while she kept one eye on Marcus who was still peering over the edge of the ridge, his binoculars focused on the scene below. What the hell was going on? What had he seen, and how bad was it that they had to hide? She felt sick and broke out in a sweat. Her mind went back to the cave in Lancaster. She tried to stop it, but she couldn’t prevent the memories from returning, not that they’d ever really left. She’d been lying on the edge of a cliff like this, fighting for her life, Marcus dying a few feet away. A tear slipped down her cheek as she saw Jackson’s face in her mind’s eye, how he slipped over the edge without a sound.

She must have let out a soft cry because Oliver put his hand on hers and looked at her with a furrowed brow.

“Mummy?” he said, and he started to weep.

“I’m okay, baby.” She kissed his nose, smiled at him.

Out on the edge Marcus turned to look at them. He crawled back. “We need to go home now.” He shouldered his backpack and grabbed Oliver’s hand, hurrying away with him so quickly he was practically dragging his son along. Oliver stumbled and his cries got louder. “Shush,” Marcus said, but that only made the boy more upset.

“Let me take him,” said Abby, whose heart was pounding so fast now she could hardly breathe. She picked Oliver up and carried him across the moor, hurrying as fast as she could but he was so heavy she couldn’t get far. “Marcus, I have to stop a minute.”

He stopped and looked beyond her, before nodding. “Okay. Just for a minute.”

Abby sat on the ground and cuddled Oliver who was still sobbing.

“I’m sorry I shouted, squirrel,” said Marcus, holding out his hand to Oliver but the boy turned his head away, tucked it into Abby’s breast. She stroked his hair, whispered things to soothe him.

“Marcus, what happened? You’ve frightened us both.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Abby. I didn’t mean to.” He reached out again to Oliver, stroked his arm. “I’m sorry, son. Will you come to daddy?”

“Go on,” said Abby, pushing a reluctant Oliver towards Marcus.

Marcus pulled him into his arms, pressed kisses to his head. “I love you, I’m sorry,” he said, and was rewarded with a hug from Oliver. He sighed. “Those men we saw. I don’t think they were very nice.”

“What do you mean?”

He pressed Oliver closer to him so one side of his face was buried in his t-shirt and put his hand over the other ear as though he was caressing him. “They had guns,” he whispered.

“Guns?” Abby mouthed the word back at him.

Marcus nodded. “I’ll tell you when we get home, which we’d better hurry up and do. I don’t want them seeing us.”

“Let’s go for a piggyback ride!” he said in a jovial voice, and he heaved Oliver up onto his shoulders. Abby picked up the backpack and put it on.

They were home less than an hour later. Oliver had cheered up after Marcus pretended he was a horse, and they’d galloped part of the way until Marcus could carry him no longer and Oliver had walked between him and Abby, swinging back and forth. He went straight to check on Bun Bun when they got in the house, carrying the rabbit’s box out onto the deck. Abby made her and Marcus a cup of tea and they sat in the living room where they could see Oliver playing but he couldn’t hear what they were saying.

“What do you mean they had guns?” Abby had been trying to process what Marcus had told her all the way home, but neither of them had wanted to upset Oliver any more than they already had.

“They looked innocent enough at first. Like you said I thought they were archaeologists or surveyors or maybe the Ranger Service doing some practical work. But as I got part way down the slope the man who’d come out of the cave when we first arrived turned and I could see he had a gun, a big one, but I couldn’t really see what it was.”

“Oh, my God!”

“Yeah, well I thought maybe he was a hunter or gamekeeper, but when I looked through my binoculars I saw the gun wasn’t a rifle, it was some kind of semi-automatic weapon. One of the other men had one as well. The guy who came out of the cave was directing the ones with the shovels and when they didn’t move fast enough he hit one with the butt of the gun. That’s when I knew they weren’t Rangers and I didn’t want them to see us.”

“What are they doing here?” Abby’s heart was racing again. People with guns wasn’t an uncommon sight in Scotland. There was grouse shooting on the moor and deer hunting in the hills. Men with semi-automatic weapons was another story altogether.

“I’m not sure, but when I observed them the second time they had something with them, a large box, and they took that into the cave.”

“Did they see you?”

“No, I don’t think so, but I heard Oliver crying and I was so scared they would too, that’s why I rushed you both away. I’m sorry I upset him.”

“He’s fine. He’s already over it. We’ll have to call the police.”

“And tell them what?” Marcus ran his fingers through his hair. “It all seems surreal now, like I imagined it.”

“Marcus, we said after last time that we would call the police if something happened again.”

“I know, I know. Okay, I’ll call them.” He picked up his phone and moved into the kitchen area to make the call. Abby could hear him recounting the same tale to the person on the other end, his voice getting more frustrated as he repeated the information again and again. He came back after a couple of minutes.

“What did they say?”

“Nothing much. They don’t have an officer to spare. I don’t think they believed me, kept asking if it was gamekeepers. Apparently, they have some high-tech rifles these days.”

“It wasn’t gamekeepers though, was it?”

Marcus rubbed his chin as he thought. “No. A gamekeeper wouldn’t treat his men the way that guy did. There’s something wrong there.”

“Did you get a good look at him?”

“Not really. He had a hat on, a beanie, which is odd in itself when you think about it, what with this heat.”

“I don’t like it, Marcus.” Abby looked at Oliver who was playing happily with Bun Bun, showing him his dinosaurs, stroking him, feeding him grass. She didn’t want anything intruding on their happy life here, threatening their family.

“Me either. That’s why I’m going to go back and have a look in the cave.”

Abby’s heart leapt with alarm. “Marcus, no! You’re not going back there.”

“If the police won’t go I have no choice. I’ll just go and see what they were doing. Then if I find something, the police will be more interested.”

“It sounds dangerous, Marcus. I don’t want you to go.”

He came over to her, pressed a kiss to her head. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

He went outside and knelt beside Oliver. Abby could hear him talking to him and the rabbit, telling them about the house they were going to make.

Abby felt bile rise and she forced it back down. She hadn’t told Marcus about the flashback to the cave in Lancaster. She was supposed to tell him when she had these feelings, but she didn’t want him to worry about her. She rubbed the scar on her leg, felt its smooth edges and rough centre. What they’d seen today was probably perfectly legitimate, but she had a bad feeling, and she’d had that before and dismissed it, and their physical and mental scars were the result. This time she would be more careful. If Marcus found something she’d make sure the police listened, no matter what it took.

\---

It was three days later that Marcus declared over breakfast he was going to look at the cave. Alice was coming to do some housekeeping and had agreed to look after Oliver for a couple of hours. Abby didn’t want him to go and spent most of the day in a state of nervous anticipation, waiting for Marcus to call. She checked the tracking app on her phone whenever she had a moment, monitoring where he had been, finding comfort in the trace of his heart rate, its up and downs as he moved across the moor. She knew when he was safely back home, or least his smart watch was, but he hadn’t called her. In the end he sent a text.

_I’m fine. I have news! Come straight home. M xx_

Abby smiled at his text despite her nervousness. Come straight home! As if she was in the habit of stopping at a bar in the mile between the holiday park and their house. She walked quickly and twenty minutes after saying goodbye to the students she was opening the door to her home. Marcus and Oliver were out in the garden, putting the finishing touches to Bun Bun’s pen. His hutch sat proudly at one end of the pen. It had two storeys with a ramp up to the top floor. The planks were old and stained and Marcus had fixed black metal hinges to the doors so it looked like a mediaeval castle. The rabbit in question was nowhere to be seen.

“He loves his house, mummy!” said an excited Oliver.

“He hasn’t done a Freddy, has he?” Abby whispered to Marcus, who smiled.

“No. He’s resting. I think he’s overwhelmed. Ollie has been very attentive,” he said.

“Ah.” Abby turned to Oliver. “Bun Bun’s house is fantastic! I love it. You two have done a great job.”

“It just needs your special touch, now,” said Marcus.

“Yes, mummy, can we paint it?” Oliver jumped up and down with excitement.

“Now?”

“Yes, now, please mummy!”

“Erm.” Abby looked at Marcus who shrugged.

“I’ll tell you my news later,” he said.

Abby held her frustration in check because Oliver was looking at her excitedly, but she was desperate to know what Marcus had found if anything. It would just have to wait. “Okay,” she said in a cheery voice. “Let’s get the paints!”

She spent an hour painting the house with Oliver, drawing pictures of rabbits and hedgehogs and flowers for him to daub with blobs of colour. When she finished Marcus had dinner prepared, so it wasn’t until Oliver was tucked up in bed that they had a chance to talk.

They sat out on the deck, nursing gin and tonics.

“What are we going to do with the rabbit and its house when we go home?” Abby said, voicing a concern she’d had since she saw how lovingly Marcus and Oliver had built the hutch.

“We can get one of those carrying case things for him, and I suppose I’ll have to build another house.” Marcus laughed softly.

“And the fish! We’ll have to take a fish and a rabbit home in the car.”

“Yes, Freddy mark two is thriving so far. Let’s not pick up any more waifs and strays while we’re here.” Marcus smiled as he took a sip of his drink.

Abby looked at him. He seemed relaxed; suntanned and glowing in his shorts and white t-shirt. Whatever he found at the cave can’t have been too awful. “I was worried about you before, when you went to the cave.”

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t call you when I got back. Oliver was desperate to work on the rabbit pen and I just lost track of time.”

“It doesn’t matter. I knew you were okay.” Abby tapped her own watch which had the same GPS tracker as Marcus’s.

“One of your better ideas, these,” he said as he fiddled with the watch.

“Peace of mind.”

“Yes.”

The spectre of their encounter with Jackson hung over them both still, when Abby didn’t know for sure where Marcus had gone, or whether he was still alive. She’d bought him the watch for their first Christmas together and had received one in return for her birthday. When Oliver was born, they’d looked into whether they could fit him with a GPS device but it wasn’t practical, and the look of sheer horror on the face of Abby’s healthcare worker when she’d suggested it had made them shelve the idea. Instead, he had a phone zipped into his backpack that Abby charged up every day so they would know where he was if anything happened.

“You said you had some interesting news? I take it you didn’t mean Bun Bun’s new home?”

“Ah, yes!” Marcus sat up straighter. “So, I went to the cave and I took a spade with me hidden in my backpack. I walked the entire perimeter and then I hid behind some rocks so I could watch the cave entrance, see if anyone was coming or going. There was no one around. So I decided to risk it.” He took a sip of his drink.

“They could have come at any time, Marcus.” Abby’s heart was racing as he recounted the tale, even though she knew he was safe and nothing had happened.

“I could see a long way from the top. I thought I had enough time to get in and out before anyone arrived. It was dark in the cave but I literally tripped over their burial place. They hadn’t done a thorough job of hiding it.”

He said this with disdain, as though he would have made a better job of being a criminal. He probably would, Abby thought with a smile.

“It didn’t take much work to uncover what they’d hidden.”

Abby sat forward too, bending her head closer to Marcus’s. “What was it?”

“Well there was a box, I told you that.”

“Yes.”

“It was metal, like an old ammunitions box from the war. My grandfather had one just like it. There was no lock on it, so I unclasped it and I had to use the torch on my phone to look inside.”

“And?” Marcus was enjoying telling this story, drawing it out, building the anticipation. Abby wanted to hit him.

“Coins!” He sat back, both eyebrows raised at her.

“Coins? What like pound coins?”

Marcus shook his head. “No, no. These were big and old-looking. I can’t be sure, but they looked like they were gold.”

“You found a horde of gold coins?” Abby was incredulous. She and Marcus had joked about what was in the cave since Marcus had seen the men, laughing that it was hidden treasure and it turned out it was!

“There were a few other things, some old rings and bracelets, but mostly it was the coins.”

“Wow. Did you take a photo?”

“Of course!” Marcus got out his phone and ran through a series of dark, blurry pictures. “The light was crap.” Abby could just about make out the coins. There seemed to be a lot.

“How many were there?”

“Hundreds. I didn’t want to hang around and count them, so I buried the box again and got out of there.”

“We have to go to the police again, Marcus. Who knows where they’ve stolen these from.”

“I called them while you were painting with Ollie. They’re sending a detective up from Glasgow tomorrow. I’m going to meet them and show them the cave.”

Excitement bubbled in Abby’s veins, despite the danger that lurked behind this find. She was intrigued. “I want to go with you,” she said before she had time to fully engage her brain.

“No, Abby. It’s too dangerous. Besides, you have your class.”

“Murphy can take the class for a couple of hours, and if it’s so dangerous why are you doing it? We’ll have the detective with us, won’t we?”

Marcus sighed. “I suppose. Alice is taking Oliver again. Why do you want to come, Abby?”

“Are you kidding? You find buried treasure in the Highlands of Scotland and I’m not supposed to want to come and see it!”

“It was exciting,” said Marcus with a grin, and Abby knew he had given in. “My stomach flipped when I saw them and my heart raced.”

“I can’t believe it. Where have they come from?”

“They must be stolen otherwise why bury them and why did they need guns?”

“Maybe it’s from a museum or someone’s private collection?”

“We could look on the internet, see what we can find?”

“Ooh, yes, let’s do that, Marcus.”

Abby fixed them another drink while Marcus fetched the laptop from the living room. They sat next to each other at the table in the last of the evening sun and Marcus searched news articles for stolen treasure. There was nothing recent.

“Look up gold coin hordes,” said Abby. “Maybe we can find a similar collection.”

“Yes, the owner might not want to make a theft public.” Marcus Googled and they viewed page after page of finds from the Romans to the Vikings but nothing that matched what Marcus had found.

“Did the detective have any idea?”

“I didn’t speak to them, just to the duty officer at Helensburgh.” He sat back, put the lid of the laptop down. “I don’t think we’re going to find anything.”

“Never mind.” Abby put her hand on his. “We’ll know more tomorrow.”

Marcus laced his fingers through hers, then he leaned in and gave her a long kiss. “We will.” He put his hand to her head, held her close while he rained kisses across her cheeks before sucking her bottom lip into his mouth, making Abby moan. “Shall we go to bed?”

“Mmmm,” was all Abby could manage.

He took their glasses inside and washed them while Abby locked the door. As she headed past him to go upstairs he scooped her up, making her laugh. He carried her to their bedroom and deposited her on the bed. Abby lay back and looked up at him as he knelt above her.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to have my dessert,” he said, and he pushed her dress up above her knees and yanked her underwear down in one swift move. He buried his nose in her sex, taking his sweet time to bring her to a long and satisfying orgasm, a favour which Abby was more than happy to return.

\---

The following day Marcus collected Abby from the holiday park where she was waiting in a state of anticipation for him. She’d told a white lie to Murphy about where she was going, saying she had to visit the doctor. If she’d told him they’d found hidden treasure in the hills he’d have wanted to go with them, and she’d have to cancel her class and they’d probably end up with an entire minibus of people in the cave. This way was better, and if she were honest with herself, more exciting.

Marcus pulled up in the car park. There was someone else in the car, sitting in the passenger seat; the detective no doubt. Abby went around to the rear and got in. Marcus turned and smiled at her.

“Hi.”

“Hi. This is Detective Pike,” Marcus said indicating the heavy-set black man in the front seat. “This is my wife, Abby.”

“Nice to meet you, Detective Pike.” Abby reached forward to take the hand the man offered to her.

“Likewise. Your husband here was telling me about the men he saw,” Pike said as Marcus pulled out onto the main road. “Did you see them?”

“Yes, briefly, although I’m not sure I can tell you anything Marcus hasn’t already.”

“People notice different things.”

“Of course. Well, I didn’t see them for long. There were three at first, then a fourth man came out of the cave. I didn’t see any guns, but two of them had shovels and they went back into the cave.”

“Can you describe the men at all?”

“Not really. It’s quite a long way down and across to the cave, and the sun was behind them, so they were like silhouettes. I think they were in army fatigues, at least the one who came out of the cave was. That’s all I can tell you.”

“It’s not much to go on,” said Pike, sounding disappointed, as though Abby should have known she was witnessing something momentous in the brief seconds she looked down on the scene, and committed it all to memory.

“Well, if I see them again, I will draw them for you,” she said in a tight voice, and caught Marcus’s eye as he looked at her in the rear-view mirror. He raised an eyebrow, and Abby shrugged. She saw his eyes crinkle into a smile.

“This is the closest we can get,” said Marcus as he pulled into a layby at the top of the hill. “It’s about a half-mile walk from here.”

They all got out of the car and Pike stood for a moment, surveying the surroundings. “Did you park here that day?”

“No, we walked from home,” replied Marcus. “That’s about two and a half miles from the cave across the moor.” He indicated the direction with a sweep of his arm.

“Would the men have parked here do you think, if they’d had a vehicle?” Pike took out a small black notebook and started writing in it.

“Definitely. This is the closest parking space to the cave for miles. The ammunition box was big and heavy. They must have had transport to get it there.”

“What about from the lake?” They all looked down on Loch Lomond which was glittering in the distance.

“It’s probably a mile from the loch, and it’s all uphill,” said Abby.

“Okay,” said Pike as he made another note. “Perhaps you can lead the way?”

Marcus led them down a narrow track only a foot wide that was probably made by sheep rather than humans. Pike seemed at home on the hills as he deftly navigated the tussocks of grass that lay in wait to trip up the unwary.

“You don’t have a Scottish accent,” Abby said to him as she followed behind. They might as well talk about something on the half-hour walk to the cave and Marcus was unlikely to initiate a conversation. He was already a few strides ahead of them.

“Neither do you.”

“I’m American. From California.” Abby waited for Pike to offer up some information in return, but he was silent. She was used to that, however, having been with Marcus for nearly seven years. “Where are you from?”

“Essex originally,” replied Pike. “It’s a county north of London.”

“I know where Essex is. I used to live in London.”

“Well, that’s where I’m from.”

“How did you end up in Scotland?”

“A long, circuitous route. How long before we’re there?” he said to Marcus, as though Abby was annoying him with her simple questions. Fine, if that’s how he wanted to play it.

“Ten more minutes until we get to the top of the hollow,” said Marcus.

They walked the rest of the way in silence. Abby decided not to take offence at Pike’s off-handedness with her. He was probably a busy man, and not everyone liked to talk as she well knew. He and Marcus would probably get on well. As they approached the vantage point from where Marcus and Abby had viewed the men Pike stopped.

“We’ll take it slowly from here, and I’ll lead.” He stepped in front of Marcus and walked to the edge of the hollow, looking down on the scene with binoculars as Marcus had done a few days before. “It looks clear,” he said.

They made their way carefully down the steep slope, Marcus keeping Abby behind him all the way until they reached the sandy ground. He took her hand as they followed Pike to the cave’s entrance, squeezed it. She didn’t know if he was thinking about the cave in Lancaster or he was just excited about showing the horde to her and Pike. Either way, Abby was grateful for his support.

The cave was light at the entrance with fronds of ferns hanging down, dripping water. The floor was sandy, with scattered rocks. As they moved further in the light dimmed and it was hard to see. Pike fumbled in his backpack and a moment later the cave was illuminated by torchlight.

“Where’s the box?” Pike said.

“Just a few yards further on,” Marcus was still gripping Abby’s hand as they navigated loose rocks and went further into the cave. “It should be about here.”

Pike shone the torch over the ground. “I thought you said you’d buried it again?” he said.

“I did.”

“Well, it’s not buried now.” Pike focused the beam of the torch on a battered green metal box lying on the floor.

“I definitely buried it.” Marcus moved towards the box but Pike put out an arm to stop him.

“I’ll look at it.” He pulled on a pair of white nitrile gloves and bent to examine the box. After a visual appraisal he flipped the clasps and opened the lid. Abby and Marcus both leaned in so they could see the contents. Abby’s heart was beating fast with anticipation. She expected the torchlight to pick out shiny gold coins and glittering bracelets, but it bounced off cold green metal instead.

“What the hell?” said Marcus. “It was full of coins and jewels.”

Pike stood up, turned to them with his hands on his hips. “There’s nothing there now.” He looked at them both with narrowed eyes.

Abby could feel Marcus tense as he gripped her hand tighter. “I showed you the proof,” he said.

“You showed me some dark photos that could have been taken anywhere,” replied Pike.

“Are you calling me a liar? The box is right there. They must have taken the coins away.”

“And leave the box?” Pike shook his head.

“Marcus was a prison governor!” said Abby, feeling the need to defend her husband. Pike’s withering look showed her what he thought about that profession.

“It’s okay, Abby.” Marcus squeezed her hand one last time then dropped it. He bent down to look at the box himself. “Perhaps they shared the contents between them. It would be less obvious than carrying a huge metal box back up the hill.”

“Why did they bury them in the first place?” Abby kept an eye on Pike as he rummaged again in his backpack.

“I suppose the stolen goods were hot. They had to stash them quickly. It makes me think they must have been taken from somewhere close by.” Marcus stood up, his eyes glinting in the torchlight. “Have there been any reports of stolen property?” he said to Pike.

Pike had retrieved a camera from his pack and he snapped shots of the scene with it. “I can’t comment on that.” He stood back once he’d finished, checked the pictures. “Right. There’s not a lot else we can do here. We’ll take the box back with his if you don’t mind helping me carry it. I’ll get our forensics team to look at it but I doubt there’ll be anything to find, if a crime has even been committed.”

He bent down to put his camera back in his pack and Abby pulled a face at him which Marcus saw.

“Behave,” he whispered with a shake of his head and a smile.

Marcus and Pike carried the box out of the cave and into the warm sunlight. Abby felt good to be outside again; it was cold and smelly in the cave and brought up memories she’d rather supress. She and Marcus hadn’t been back to the one in Lancaster since that fateful day. She stretched, looked around at the surrounding hills. It was so beautiful here, so peaceful. She didn’t like the thought of men with guns and stolen goods sullying it. High up on the hill opposite where they’d descended something glinted, catching her eye. She watched and it happened again.

“What’s that?” she said, pulling on Marcus’s arm as he passed her.

“What’s what?”

“Something glinted up on the hill, like the sun hitting glass.” She pointed in the direction of the glare and Marcus and Pike followed her gaze. Nothing happened. She stood for a minute, sensing Pike’s frustration as he breathed loudly, but ignoring it.

“It’s gone now,” she said.

“Could have been anything,” said Marcus. “A hillwalker maybe, looking at birds.”

“Yes, probably.”

“Let’s go,” said Pike impatiently, and they retraced their steps up the hill towards the car, Marcus and Pike walking with the box between them.

“What next?” said Marcus as they pulled up at their home where Pike had left his car.

“I’ll have the box examined and make a report. There’s not much else I can do without the coins.”

“There hasn’t been a report of stolen goods, has there?” said Marcus as Pike folded himself into his car.

“Thank you for your time, Mr Kane, Mrs Kane. I’ll be in touch if I have any news.” With that he drove away, and Marcus closed the gate behind him.

“That’s annoying,” he said.

“He was very annoying!” replied Abby. “Practically saying you’d made it up.”

“I meant the coins having gone, not Pike,” said Marcus with a smile. “You didn’t like him, did you?”

“Not much. I think he knows more than he’s saying.”

“He’s a detective. It’s not his job to tell us everything just because we want to know.”

“I know that!” Abby followed Marcus into the house. “But there’s something about him, I don’t know what it is. He’s full of himself.”

“We did our part; we made the report. That’s all we can do.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I’m always right.” Marcus pecked Abby on the cheek.

“Daddy! Mummy!” shouted a small voice and Oliver came running towards them, still in his onesie. Marcus picked him up and swung him around.

“Hi squirrel! I missed you!”

“Guess what Bun Bun has done!”

“What has he done?”

“Guess!”

“Erm. Has he learned to play football?”

“No!”

Marcus carried Oliver into the living room where Alice was sitting in a chair with a cup of tea in her hand. She looked exhausted.

“Did he speak to you?”

“He always speaks to me.”

Marcus smiled at Abby. “Did he make Grammy Alice a cup of tea?”

“Daddy you’re silly.” Oliver put his hands on Marcus’s cheeks and pulled a face at him. Marcus growled and pretended to bite his nose before dropping a kiss on it.

“You’ll have to tell me. I’ve run out of guesses.”

“He ate his own poop!” Oliver looked from Marcus to Abby in triumph, delighted with his piece of news.

“Oliver!” said Abby. “That’s not nice.”

“He did, mummy. I watched him poop and then he ate it up!”

Marcus set Oliver down. “Are you sure he wasn’t eating some grass nearby?”

“No, it was poop.” Oliver laughed and clapped his hands.

“Well, humans don’t eat poop,” said Marcus. “So don’t get any ideas.”

“I’m going to see if he does it again!” Oliver ran out into the garden.

“He’s been like that since ye left,” said Alice with a heavy sigh. “I dinnae know where he gets his energy from. Ye must feed him well.”

“He takes after his mum,” said Marcus. “She never stops talking.”

“You...!” Abby couldn’t say what she wanted to in front of Alice, so she settled for giving him a gentle slap to his arm.

“Mr Kane was a quiet wee lad,” said Alice. “He was nae bother.”

Marcus looked at Abby smugly.

“Always playing happily alone,” continued Alice. “Remember that wee potato ye carried everywhere fer days? Cried fer hours when it sprouted. Ye thought it was an alien.”

Abby snorted with laughter at Alice’s story. “An alien potato,” she said between snorts.

“Shut up,” said Marcus to both of them.

“Tell me more,” said Abby to Alice as she settled into the chair next to her.

Alice told a few more tales of young Marcus that had Abby in stitches and Marcus’s frown getting deeper. After Alice had gone they sat in the garden watching Oliver lying on his front on the grass watching Bun Bun.

“Has he pooped yet?” shouted Abby.

“Yes, but he hasn’t eaten it,” said Oliver with a sad pout.

“Our son,” said Marcus, and he raised his glass of lemonade to Abby’s.

“I know.” Abby clinked her glass against his, then took a sip of the cool drink. “What are we going to do about the coins now?”

“What can we do? They’re gone. It’s up to the police.”

“We could maybe do a little asking around, see if anyone’s heard anything. The local gossips are better than any police detective.”

“I thought you said it was too dangerous?”

“I know, I know, but I’m intrigued now.”

“So am I.” Marcus rubbed his chin. “You’d be better at that than me.”

“Because I talk too much?” Abby shot him a narrow-eyed look.

“Yes.” Marcus leaned away so she couldn’t reach him, not that she was going to hit him. She’d think of a better punishment than that.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“I’ll get back on the internet. There may have been reports since we last looked.”

“Okay.”

Oliver screamed and they both jumped up. “What is it?” said Marcus, fear in his voice.

“He just ate it!” Oliver jumped up and did a little dance before laying back down to continue his observation.

“Fuck! My heart,” said Marcus as he sank back into his chair, his hand to his chest.

Abby couldn’t speak at first because her own heart was racing and she was also laughing so hard. “What have we created?” she puffed when she finally got some breath back.

Marcus shook his head and smiled. “I don’t know, but I fear for the future of the world.”


	8. Day Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn more about the students and there's trouble at the holiday park

“Can you pass me that bag?” Murphy held out his hand to Abby and she deposited a large holdall containing paints and brushes into it. Murphy yawned as he put the bag into the luggage hold.

“Up late?” said Abby.

“Up early. While some of us were being served breakfast in bed by our gullible husbands, others were hard at work.” He huffed as he lifted a couple of easels.

“Marcus didn’t serve me breakfast in bed.” Abby handed him a large coolbox.

“He made it for you though, didn’t he?”

Abby couldn’t deny that, because he made her breakfast every day, and packed her lunch, organised their dinner. “It’s our deal.”

“It’s some deal. He looks after the kid, cooks all your meals, tidies up after you while you get to paint all day, which you love to do.”

“I have to put up with you though, don’t I?”

“As if that’s a hardship.” Murphy grinned. “I’m not knocking it. I love that you have the great Marcus Kane wrapped around your finger. It’s a pleasure to see.”

“No one has me wrapped around their finger, Murphy.”

Murphy jumped at the sound of Marcus’s voice and banged his head on the luggage flap. “Fuck!” he said.

Marcus raised an eyebrow in response.

“Where’s Oliver?” said Abby when she saw Marcus was alone.

“With Clarke. He’s telling her about Bun Bun.”

“Not that bloody rabbit again,” said Murphy as he closed the lid of the hold. “I heard nothing but Bun Bun this, Bun Bun that last time Ollie was here.”

“He’s obsessed with him,” said Marcus. “It’s all any of us hear.”

“I suppose it’s nice for him to have something other than you two to talk to, poor kid.”

“Isn’t it time we were all on board, John?” said Abby, interrupting before Marcus had a chance to respond.

“We’re just waiting for Echo.”

“She’s not missing again is she?” That girl was late to everything, and it was starting to annoy Abby. She considered herself a relaxed laid-back person, but she liked the students to give their full commitment to their time in the class. The places were sought after and the least she expected was respect. She smiled to herself. She was starting to sound like Marcus. It was inevitable, she supposed, after so long together, that they should pick up each other’s traits.

“She was out early, that’s all. She’s just getting her things together.”

“Fine. Make sure she hurries. We’re already running late.”

They were heading to Stirling for the day to look at architecture and draw the castle. Abby wanted to get there early because it was an hour’s drive and rain threatened in the afternoon. She wanted the students to have as much time there as possible.

“Okay everyone,” she said in a loud voice. “Let’s get on board.”

Marcus retrieved Oliver’s seat from the car and put it in the minibus while Abby put their bags inside. They were coming on the trip because Oliver had run Marcus ragged that week and he’d told Abby over breakfast that he couldn’t take one more day of endless rabbit talk. Oliver was still in his onesie but Marcus had managed to get a dark blue cardigan Alice had knitted over the top of it, so the child at least looked half dressed.

Abby stood with Murphy and Marcus and watched as the students boarded the bus.

“Can Ollie sit with us?” said Clarke as she and Octavia passed.

“He needs a special seat,” said Abby.

“It’s fine,” said Marcus hurriedly. “I’ll move his seat.” He disappeared into the minibus before Abby could respond. He was probably grateful for an hour without Oliver pestering him and Abby couldn’t complain about it because she wasn’t the one who had to be with their son all day every day.

As Abby and Murphy waited for Echo, another person approached. Charmaine Diyoza. She was still at the holiday park a week after she’d arrived, despite saying she only needed to stay a couple of days. Abby had broached the subject of her going home or wherever it was she wanted to go next, but Charmaine had said she and the baby were calmer now that they were out of her partner’s reach, and what could Abby say to that?

“Hello, Charmaine,” she said. “How are you today?”

“Still pregnant,” she said with a grimace as she rubbed her enormous bump.

“Is she playing you up?”

“Constant kicking now.”

“She wants out of there.”

“If only.” Charmaine peered into the minibus. “Are you going somewhere?”

“We’re off to Stirling,” said Murphy. “Abby’s treating us to a day of horse racing, highland games and general shenanigans.”

“Are you?” said Charmaine to Abby.

“No, ignore John. We’re going to paint the castle.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely. I’ve never been to Stirling.”

Abby didn’t respond and Charmaine’s comment rolled across the car park like a tumbleweed. Murphy looked at Abby, who widened her eyes and gave an imperceptible shake of her head. The last thing she needed was having to chaperone a heavily pregnant woman. Charmaine would be better off relaxing at the park.

“Why don’t you come with us?” said Murphy, a gleam in his eye.

“Oh, could I?” Charmaine looked at Abby with a defiant glare, daring her to say no. It was very difficult to say no to a pregnant woman; a fact Abby had made good use of with Marcus when she was expecting Oliver.

“It’s a lot of sitting around. I don’t think it would be good for you.”

“That’s all I do here, sit around. It would be good to get out, see a bit of the world. Christ knows I’ll be stuck in by myself long enough once this one’s born.” Charmaine gave a dramatic sigh and Abby somehow prevented herself from rolling her eyes.

“Do you paint or draw?” said Abby, thinking they might as well make the most of it if Charmaine were to come with them.

“I gave myself a tattoo, does that count?”

“It’s close enough. John, put an easel and canvas in for Charmaine. Let’s see what you’re made of,” she said.

Echo went past them as Murphy went to fetch the equipment Abby had requested. “Sorry I’m late, Abby,” she said with a cool smile.

“Where’ve you been?”

“I went for a walk, lost track of time. Sorry.”

“Okay, well you’re here now. Get in the bus.”

Marcus exited the bus as Echo and Charmaine waited to get on. He frowned when he saw the pregnant woman.

“What’s she doing here?” he said to Abby as they settled into the front seats next to Murphy who was driving as usual.

“Remember when I was eight months pregnant with Oliver and I craved that lemon and raspberry ice cream they only sold in the Co-op in Lancaster and you drove there and back at ten o’clock at night to get it for me even though you were tired and had to be at work early the next day?”

“Marcus sighed heavily. “Of course I do.”

“Well, I couldn’t say no just now any more than you could then.”

“I was in love with you. I’d have done anything.”

“Love has nothing to do with it. No one can say no to the bump. You know it’s true.”

“I bloody could,” mumbled Marcus. Abby smiled. He wouldn’t say no to Charmaine and they both knew it.

\---

“You’re not letting yourself go.” Abby was standing next to Sinclair as he painted the castle.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it’s all very neat and tidy, and yes it’s obvious it’s the castle, but it lacks life. What does it mean to you?”

Sinclair put the hard end of his paintbrush in his mouth and looked from the castle to the canvas. “I don’t know anything about this castle.”

“You don’t need to know about this particular castle necessarily. What does a castle mean to you?”

“Erm, old, danger, prisoners, defence.”

“So intimidating then, a place to be feared perhaps?”

“I suppose.”

“Then let’s see that in your painting.”

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“What’s the most frightening thing that’s happened to you, only if you want to tell me of course?”

Sinclair frowned as he looked at Abby. Abby wasn’t sure he wanted to reveal his feelings, but if she didn’t get him to open up, or to dig deep inside himself then he was never going to improve his skills, and he was certainly never going to be able to get others to do so, as he hoped to do. It was always a risk, opening up old wounds, but the students were here to explore their feelings as well as work on their art, it was part of the course.

“I.” Sinclair chewed the end of his paintbrush for a moment. “Well, I’ve woke up a lot of places and didn’t know how I got there.”

Abby nodded. “I can imagine that’s very frightening.” That wasn’t the truth though she could tell. “What else?”

Sinclair looked at Oliver who was daubing paint onto a canvas. Marcus was trying to make him paint inside the lines, but Oliver was having more fun smearing the paint all over his father’s careful box drawing of the castle.

“I crashed my car with my grandson in the back,” Sinclair said at last. “That’s why my son doesn’t let me see him much.”

“While you were drunk?”

“Yes.”

“Were you all okay?”

“Yes, thankfully. Well, physically at least. My son said my grandson had nightmares for months afterwards.”

“I’m sorry that happened.” Abby put her hand on Sinclair’s shoulder. “Was that what made you try to get sober?”

“You’d think it would, wouldn’t you?” Sinclair laughed sarcastically. “I sank lower after that, to a very dark place.”

“Addiction isn’t logical, as I’m sure you know. Your mind and body don’t respond as you’d think they would.”

Sinclair looked at her surprised. “You know about addiction?”

“I have experience of a different form of addiction, yes, plus I have worked with a lot of people through my art therapy classes. I would never claim to know how you feel but I understand what addiction does to people.”

“You never lose it,” said Sinclair. “You just replace one thing with another.”

“I know.” Abby glanced at Marcus who was using a paintbrush to coax some of Oliver’s paint daubs within the lines. He must have sensed her looking at him because he turned and caught her eye. He smiled. Abby smiled back. “It can be a very positive thing, though,” she said to Sinclair. “You can adapt.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.”

“I think, if you feel able to do this, that you should try to harness some of these feelings and put them into your work. I know you’ve done some of this before, but I sense you’re still holding back.”

“You might be right.” Sinclair gave her a weak smile.

“Don’t worry about it looking realistic or being perfect. Just paint what you feel.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Abby nodded. “You’re very welcome.”

Octavia was sitting a short way from Sinclair, between him and Marcus, sketching a design for some graffiti. Abby went over to her, stood behind her so she could examine the picture. Octavia was more talented than her brother, though she didn’t like it if Abby praised her.

“Love the blood drips,” Abby said as she leaned over Octavia so she could see better.

Octavia squirmed in her seat. “Is your eyesight bad? You don’t have to get so close.”

“Sorry.” Abby stood back. “I take it that’s not your own blood.” It was a joke intended to break some of the ice that Octavia surrounded herself with, although Abby wouldn’t put it past the girl to use her own blood on a picture.

“It’s the blood of the last person who got in my face like you do.”

“I’m giving you your space now.” Abby heard Octavia’s exaggerated sigh as she was meant to do and could imagine the eye roll the girl was giving her.

“Yeah, well anyway. I heard what you said to the old man back there.”

“You mean Mr Sinclair.”

“Whatever. You asked him what the castle meant to him. So I thought about that.”

“And this is what it means to you? The blood?”

“Yes, they murdered tons of people didn’t they in the old days? So that’s what this is.”

Abby’s attention was drawn to Charmaine who was waddling across the grass towards Marcus who was drawing some additions to Oliver’s painting and seemed to be enjoying himself. Oliver was nowhere to be seen and Abby scanned the group until she saw him with Clarke, bending over a canvas that was on the floor and flicking paint at it. His delighted laugh filtered across the sky to Abby, who smiled. Oliver had never taken to another woman other than Alice before. Abby found she didn’t mind it. There was something about Clarke that she liked. The girl had lots of potential as an artist, and as a human being, whatever she might have done to land herself in trouble.

“They did like to kill lots of people back then, yes.” Abby turned her attention back to Octavia and then to Marcus.

Marcus frowned when Charmaine approached, then he stood up and offered her his chair, helping her ease into it like he had done countless times with Abby.

“Didn’t know you were an artist like your wife,” said Charmaine as she settled her bulk into the small plastic chair.

“I’m not, as you can plainly see,” replied Marcus gruffly.

“Looks alright to me.” Charmaine sniffed and looked up at Marcus with eyes that were large despite the thick black pencil she’d drawn around them. Abby wasn’t a fan of heavy make-up. She kept hers light, almost nude.

“Thanks,” said Marcus. Abby could tell he was uncomfortable from the way he was holding himself stiffly. “How are you feeling?” he said with a twitch of his shoulders.

“As to be expected. You must know what this is like from when your wife was pregnant.”

“I do remember, yes.”

Charmaine looked him up and down. “You were both late bloomers, eh?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you and Abby had your kid late in life.”

“Yes, well we...” Marcus trailed off, probably unwilling to give this stranger any details about their life.

“Tried for a long time, did you? What was it in the end, IVF?”

“No! Oliver was created naturally.” Marcus looked indignant and Abby stifled a smile. Octavia was still talking, and she nodded and made some murmuring noises although she wasn’t really listening.

“So she wore you down then eventually? You don’t seem like a natural father to me.”

“That’s... I’m an excellent father! Abby and I met each other late in life that’s all.”

“I see.” Charmaine nodded as though she was indulging Marcus and didn’t really believe him. Marcus’s face was a picture of confusion and indignation.

“You’re not exactly a spring chicken yourself,” he said, causing Charmaine to cackle.

“Yeah, well I was away a long time.”

“In prison?”

“No! In the army.” She huffed loudly. “You don’t like me, do you?”

“I don’t know you,” replied Marcus.

“No but you jumped straight to the conclusion I must have done something bad. You don’t think that about people you like.”

“Occupational hazard, I suppose. I’m sorry for making that assumption.”

“S’okay.” Diyoza cocked her eyebrow at Marcus. Abby couldn’t quite tell from this distance but she suspected he had a faint blush on his cheeks that she was often the cause of when they were first dating.

“I take it your partner isn’t the nicest of men?” Marcus pulled up another chair so he could sit next to Charmaine.

“He’s alright most of the time. Temper, you know?”

“Yes.” Marcus nodded and Charmaine cocked her head.

“Really?”

“Really what?”

“You know. About temper?”

Marcus pulled a few faces while he thought through his response. “In a previous life.”

“Yeah. Well, I needed a break.”

“He’ll wonder where you are, though?”

Charmaine shrugged. “He’s texted me, I texted back. He knows I’m okay.”

“But not where you are?”

“No.”

“Okay, because I don’t want trouble for Abby or her students.”

Charmaine lifted her hands in the air. “Have I been trouble so far?”

Marcus raised his own eyebrow, then he smiled tentatively.

“Something going on there?” Octavia’s voice brought Abby back to what she was supposed to be doing.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re more interested in that Diyoza chick flirting with your husband than with what I’m saying.”

“She’s not flirting with him!”

“Looks like it to me.”

“You’re being silly, Octavia.”

“Hey, I’d bang him if I got a chance, so I don’t blame her.” Octavia gave Abby a mischievous look, and Abby knew she shouldn’t rise to the bait but she couldn’t help herself.

“You’d sleep with a man knowing he was married, and knowing his wife?”

“I love how you focus on what I’m doing rather than what the married man is doing.”

“I. Listen.” Abby ran her fingers across her brow. “I would not put up with that from anyone, but it’s irrelevant because Marcus would never cheat.”

“He’s a man ain’t he? Can’t help what’s between his legs.”

“How did you get so cynical at such a young age?”

“You don’t want to know.” Octavia gave Abby a defiant stare, then ran a bold stroke across her painting. “I hate this.”

“I’m sorry for whatever happened to you, that makes you feel like this,” and even as the words were out of Abby’s mouth she knew they were a mistake. Octavia wasn’t Clarke or Sinclair. Sympathy or empathy wasn’t going to cut it.

“Urgh! Save me from bleeding heart liberals.” Octavia stormed off towards Bellamy who was sitting with his easel as close to Echo’s as it was possible to get.

Abby cursed herself and her crassness. She’d let herself get distracted by Marcus and Charmaine and hadn’t given Octavia the attention she needed or deserved. Instead she’d practically ignored her, effectively treating her like nothing which was how she’d been treated her entire life. She had some making up to do, if she could.

\---

The bus was full of chatter as they drove back to the holiday park. Octavia had ensconced herself between Bellamy and Echo who weren’t happy about it judging from their frowning faces, but Octavia chatted obliviously. Charmaine sat next to Sinclair having an animated discussion, and Indra sat alone at the back, brooding as usual. Clarke played with Oliver. Marcus was asleep with his head resting on Abby’s shoulder. Murphy had music on low and hummed quietly to himself as he negotiated the narrow country lanes. Abby thought it had been a good day, despite her mistake with Octavia. The students were improving both in their artistic skills and in their social skills. Two weeks to go, and she had the feeling this could be her most successful group yet.

They turned into the car park and Murphy jumped out to go and unpack the luggage.

Abby stroked Marcus’s face gently. “We’re here,” she said as he grunted and blinked.

“Did I fall asleep?” he said, his voice soft and sleep-heavy.

“Only the entire journey.” Abby kissed his cheek. “Let’s get unpacked and then go home. I’m ready for some quiet time with my boys.”

“What the fuck?” Murphy’s voice was loud and echoed off the caravans.

Abby looked at Marcus in alarm. They opened the door and got out of the bus. “What’s the matter?” she said, running across to Murphy who was looking at his caravan.

“We’ve been broken into!”

“No!”

“What’s this?” Marcus strode forward, pushed past Murphy and into the caravan. Abby followed along with Murphy.

The caravan was in disarray, papers flung everywhere, seats upturned.

“Seems like someone was looking for something,” said Marcus, frowning as he moved around, looking into cupboards and rooms.

“Like what?” said Abby, surveying the scene sadly. Who would do something like this?

“There’s fuck all worth stealing here,” said Murphy.

“Information, perhaps, on the students.”

“That’s all kept under lock and key.” Murphy opened a cupboard where a safe was recessed into the wall. He opened it and took out a sheaf of papers. “It’s all still here.” He went to his desk, moved piles of paper around. “My laptop’s still here.”

“How odd,” said Abby.

“We need to see if the other caravans have been broken into.” Marcus marched outside where the students were gathered in a whispering huddle.

“I’m afraid the park has suffered a break-in. At the moment it doesn’t appear as though anything has been taken, but you should go to your own vans and check.”

A few members of the group paled when they heard Marcus’s news. Bellamy, Echo and Indra almost ran to their caravans.

“They’re in a hurry!” said Abby.

“Probably rushing to check their stashes,” said Murphy with a grin. “Speaking of...” He left Abby to go to back to his own caravan.

Clarke was the only one left in the car park, holding Oliver’s hand.

“Aren’t you going to check your van, Clarke?” said Abby.

“Erm, yes, I suppose.” She handed Oliver to Abby who picked him up.

“What’s happening, mummy?” he said with a sleepy frown.

“Nothing, baby, it’s okay. We’re going home soon.”

“Okay,” he said, and he put his head on her shoulder, his thumb slipping into his mouth.

“Don’t suck your thumb,” Abby said absent-mindedly as she stood waiting for the students to return.

“It’s probably kids,” said Marcus as he put his arm around her.

“It’s never happened before.”

“No.” He ran his other hand through his hair and sighed.

The students returned to the car park one by one, each with the same story. Their vans had been disturbed but nothing had been taken. Clarke was the last to return, her face ashen. Abby tried to engage her but she kept her eyes to the ground.

“Well, thank you everybody,” said Abby. “I’m sorry this has happened. We’ll report it to the police of course, but if nothing has been taken I’m not sure what they’ll be able to do about it. Why don’t you go to the Mess and give John a hand with the dinner? I’ll let you know what the police say.”

She looked at Marcus, who was frowning. “What’s the matter?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if this was to do with her,” he said, looking at Charmaine who was being assisted to the Mess by Sinclair.

“I thought you were getting along better with her,” said Abby, surprised at his attitude.

“What makes you think that?”

“I don’t know. You seemed to be having a nice chat earlier.”

“A nice chat! She called me old and implied I couldn’t give you a baby!”

“That’s not what she meant!”

Marcus’s eyes widened. “You heard us?”

“Well, I. Some of your conversation may have drifted my way.”

Marcus huffed. “Well, we were fine until she came along.”

“Abby?” Abby turned to see Clarke hovering close by.

“What’s up, Clarke?” Abby’s voice sounded harsh even to her own ears. She was tired and when she felt like that she sometimes struggled to hide it. “How can I help you?” she said in a softer voice.

The girl shuffled from one foot to another. “Can I talk to you a minute?”

“Of course.” Abby handed Oliver to Marcus. “What’s the problem?” she said, taking Clarke by the elbow and steering her towards the picnic benches where they sat down next to each other.

Clarke took a couple of deep breaths. “I think it might be because of me. The break-in.”

This wasn’t what Abby had been expecting to hear. “What do you mean?”

Clarke stared at her, chewing her bottom lip. Abby put her hand on Clarke’s where it lay on top of the table.

“You can tell me anything.”

“Yeah. I know.” Clarke took another deep breath. “Okay. Well, the reason I went to prison was cause I was part of this group. We were like do-gooders really. Trying to save the world.” She laughed softly.

“Okay.” Abby squeezed Clarke’s hand to encourage her.

“I was involved in some protests at first, then it got bigger, more complicated. I started to take part in more secret things, like raids on the offices of these fracking firms, and we kind of sabotaged their equipment.”

“I see.” So Clarke was one of these so-called eco-terrorists. Abby had heard about their activities. There was a long-standing anti-fracking protest near Blackpool and one near Preston. She’d never been to a demonstration herself, but she’d donated to the cause.

“Anyway, we did this particular raid one night. I don’t want to go into the details, but it went wrong and someone got hurt. It wasn’t me,” she said looking up at Abby with her soulful blue eyes. “I didn’t hurt the man. I wasn’t even in that part of the building, but we all got sent down for it.”

“You were treated as an accomplice?”

“Yes. I never grassed on the person who really did it, but somehow the police found out who it was, and he got a longer sentence than the rest of us.”

“That seems fair to me, Clarke. He should be punished more.”

“Yes, I know, but the thing is, Abby, he thinks it was me that grassed him up. I don’t know why. Someone has poisoned him against me maybe. We had a bit of a thing together, but he had another girlfriend. It’s complicated.”

“You think this other girlfriend may have told him it was you?”

Clarke shrugged. “I can’t prove it. He said he’d come after me when he got out, that he’d find me and make me pay for what I did.” She shuddered as she spoke and Abby tentatively put her arm around her. To her surprise, Clarke didn’t move away. “He got out three weeks ago. It’s why I was really happy to be coming on the course. I thought he wouldn’t be able to find me here, but he has.” She sobbed, and Abby drew her closer.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” She held Clarke while she cried, and then the girl sat up straighter, wiped her tears away.

“I don’t know where that came from,” she said. “Sorry.”

“There’s no need to be sorry. Look, there’s no proof that it was him, so try not to jump to conclusions too quickly. It’s more likely to be kids messing around.”

Clarke shook her head. “No, no.”

“Yes.” Abby stroked the girl’s blonde hair. “But we will tell the police about it, and they can look into it.”

“I don’t want the police involved.” Clarke looked at Abby fearfully.

“Marcus and I met a policeman the other day. He was a nice man.” Abby said the last part through clenched teeth, because she hadn’t taken to Pike and thought he might possibly be a misogynist, but Clarke didn’t need to know that. “We’ll talk to him quietly first, see what he can find out. How does that sound?”

“I suppose.”

Abby smiled at Clarke as she stroked her hair. “It will be fine. Marcus and I will look after you, I promise.”

“You’ve been very kind to me.”

“I’m just protecting my future possible assistant.” Abby looked at Clarke with a raised eyebrow and a half smile. She was rewarded with a smile from Clarke in return. “That’s better. I’ll report the general break-in to Police Scotland but I won’t tell them about your situation for now. I’ll speak to Detective Pike privately about that. Okay?”

“Yes, okay. Thank you.” Clarke surprised Abby by giving her a soft peck on the cheek.

“Okay. Well, I’d better get my child home. He gets cranky when he hasn’t had his dinner, like his daddy.” She smiled again at Clarke. “Call me if you need me.”

“I will.”

Abby left Clarke sitting on the bench and returned to Marcus.

“What was that all about?” he said, as he shifted a sleepy Oliver from one hip to the other.

“I’ll tell you when we get home. Have you called the police?”

“Yes. Murphy is going to deal with it. They have our number if they need to speak to us.”

“Murph,” muttered Oliver.

“Let’s go home, darling,” said Abby and she planted a kiss on his cheek.


	9. Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the weekend, and Kabby enjoy family times and sexy times :)

“That’s cheating and you know it, Oliver!” Marcus’s tone was indignant as he watched his blue counter slide back down the snake under Oliver’s determined finger.

“You were on that square, daddy,” said Oliver, pointing to a space three squares before the one with the snake’s head. A dice sat on the board in front of them, its four dots staring up accusingly.

“I was on the one after it. I should have missed the snake’s head.”

Oliver shook his head. “No.”

“Yes, Oliver.”

Oliver grinned and picked up the dice. Marcus looked at Abby in despair.

“Abby! You saw that.”

Abby, who had seen it all and who knew Marcus was right, nevertheless decided to feign ignorance. This happened every time they played Snakes and Ladders and it always amused her to see the lengths Oliver would go to in order to cheat, and the increasing frustration of Marcus at his son’s deception. “I wasn’t really looking, sorry.” She smiled at Marcus and he narrowed his eyes at her.

“It’s a conspiracy. You two are always ganging up on me!”

“Mummy said she didn’t see, daddy,” said Oliver looking up at Marcus with big innocent eyes.

“Mummy can be very naughty.”

Abby looked at Oliver with wide eyes and her mouth turned into a big O. Oliver giggled, then he dropped his dice without rolling it because he wanted a four to go up the next ladder.

“Four!” he shouted, and he moved his counter along the squares and up the ladder.

“You didn’t even roll that,” said Marcus.

“I did.”

“Dropping it on the board is not rolling it.” Marcus picked up the dice and shook it before rolling it along the table. “That’s how you do it.”

“It’s your turn, mummy.” Oliver handed the dice to Abby, completely ignoring Marcus.

Abby rolled the dice and got a five. “Aha!” she said triumphantly as she went up a short ladder to the next row.

“Cheats, the pair of you,” muttered Marcus, whose counter was now languishing on the third row while Oliver and Abby were near the top of the board.

It had been a rainy weekend and they’d spent Saturday in Glasgow shopping and visiting the Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum where they had a dinosaur exhibit. They’d bought Oliver a t-shirt and shorts with dinosaurs on them and he’d been so desperate to wear them Abby had had to change him in the toilets of the museum. The good thing was this finally meant the end of the Fireman Sam onesie, although Abby had been so convinced he would transfer the fixation to the new outfit she’d bought a second pair just in case.

Now it was Sunday and they were lounging around in pyjamas playing games until it was time to get dressed. Marcus was taking them out for Sunday lunch but he wouldn’t say where, only that they had to look smart.

Marcus was about to roll the dice again when he stopped. “Hang on a minute.” He took his phone from his pocket and snapped a picture of the board. “Now there can be no argument about where my counter was.”

He rolled the dice and got a six, pumping the air in delight until he moved along the squares and landed on another snake head, this one leading right back to square one. “God...”

“Marcus!”

Oliver collapsed into exaggerated giggles. “You’re down the snake, daddy,” he said, laughing louder than was necessary.

“This game is stupid,” said Marcus, crossing his arms and frowning. “There’s no logic to it; it’s just sheer luck.”

“Well if it makes you feel better we can play Scrabble later and you can beat me and Oliver with a 50 point word as usual.”

“I can think of two short words that are worth thirteen and nine,” said Marcus.

Abby didn’t need to understand the scoring system of Scrabble to guess what those words were. “Now, now,” she said with a smirk.

Marcus rolled his eyes, but his thin lips were curved into a slight smile. He enjoyed their banter as much as she and Oliver did. “Come on, then, roll the dice. Finish me off,” he said.

It took four more rounds before the game ended with Oliver the winner of course. He cheated every time but paid no heed to Marcus’s admonishments or to Abby when she eventually told him off.

Upstairs in Oliver’s bedroom Abby was fully prepared for a battle of wills over his outfit but to her surprise he was cooperative when she dressed him in a collared shirt and navy-blue sweater. She couldn’t get him in long trousers, but his blue shorts were smart, and with his socks pulled up to his knees and his shoes that had been polished to within an inch of their lives by Marcus, he looked presentable.

Abby ran a brush through his curls, ignoring his protestations, then licked her thumb and wiped some errant butter from his cheek. She stood back and appraised him.

“A very handsome boy,” she said.

“Like his dad,” said Marcus as he came into the room. “Very nice, Oliver.”

“Where we going, daddy?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“You look handsome too,” said Abby as she took in Marcus in his beige Chinos, grey sweater and dark blue sports jacket. Five years it had taken her to get him into something other than black, but the result was worth it.

“Thank you. You look very sexy like that, but I’m not sure it matches the dress code.” Marcus looked Abby up and down. She was still in her Winnie the Pooh pyjamas which she would never class as sexy, but Marcus liked her no matter what she was wearing.

“I’m going to get ready.”

“What are you wearing?”

“I was going to wear my red dress, but I’ll clash with you now.”

“Maybe there’s something new in your closet?”

“I haven’t had anything new in ages.”

Marcus responded with a shrug and a raised eyebrow. “You never know what might appear.”

“What have you done?” Marcus looked pleased with himself and it made Abby smile.

“Go and see.”

Abby went to her dressing room followed by Marcus and Oliver. Hanging on the door of her closet was a wrap dress in vivid blue. It had a V-neckline and a softly pleated skirt. Abby held it to her so Marcus could see it. “It’s gorgeous!” she said, looking down at herself.

“Try it on,” said Marcus, a big smile on his face.

Abby disappeared into her closet to change into the dress. When she emerged a few minutes later Marcus was sat on their bed with Oliver. He stood as she came into the room.

“Wow!” he said as Abby twirled for him to admire her. “I knew it would look perfect on you. Doesn’t mummy look lovely, Oliver?”

“You look bootiful, mummy.”

“Thank you, baby.” Abby bent to give Oliver a kiss, then she kissed Marcus on the cheek. “I love it! Thank you.”

“Just something I saw when Ollie and I were in Glasgow. I had to get it.”

“Well, I had better finish getting dressed or we’ll be late for wherever we’re going.” Abby sat at her dressing table to fix her hair and make-up while Oliver played on the bed. Marcus was watching her as he sometimes liked to do when she was getting ready.

“Can I help you with that?” he said as Abby took out the diamond necklace he’d bought her for their first Christmas together. She’d had other jewellery presents since, but this was always her favourite.

“Please.” She handed the necklace to Marcus and he slipped it around her neck, moving her hair back so he could fasten it. He let it drop between her breasts, adjusted its position, which was really just an excuse for his fingers to brush against her.

“Beautiful,” he said, and she could see his soft smile in the mirror as he leaned in to kiss the top of her head. “I love you.”

“I love you. Thank you for the dress,” Abby whispered in return. She hunted out her silver strappy high-heeled sandals and picked out a silver bag and then she was ready. “Don’t we all look nice?” she said as she helped Oliver down from the bed.

“Where are we going, daddy?”

“Okay, well I suppose I can tell you now. We’re going to The Cromlix in Dunblane.”

Oliver looked unblinkingly at Marcus, the name of the Albert Roux-managed restaurant meaning nothing to him.

“Perhaps if you’d said we’re going to Bella Italia he’d have a better reaction,” said Abby with a laugh.

“We’re not wasting these outfits on Bella Italia,” said Marcus. “It’s a very nice restaurant with lots of yummy food and I’ve booked us a private room so you can make as much noise as you want,” he said to Oliver.

“Can I bring Saur?” said Oliver, a big smile on his face at the news.

“You can bring whatever you want.”

“Oh, good, well I’m bringing Saur and swirl and Fireman Sam.”

“Okay. Go and get them then.” Marcus smiled as Oliver rushed off to his bedroom.

“The Cromlix, Marcus,” said Abby when they were alone. “That’s very expensive.”

“I thought we deserved a treat.” He took her into his arms, and they kissed. Abby snaked her fingers through his hair and the kiss deepened. “Can’t wait to take you out of that dress tonight,” murmured Marcus, making Abby’s heart race.

“Mmmm. Tonight, I want you to...”

“Mummy, swirl’s head is floppy.” Oliver came back into the room with a sad look on his face, clutching a limp squirrel whose head was hanging on by a thin thread.

Abby pulled reluctantly away from Marcus. “Oh dear. I’ll fix him in the car.”

Abby found her sewing kit and spent most of the journey to the restaurant trying to sew the squirrel’s head back on without stabbing herself with the needle every time the car hit a bump in the road.

They pulled up at the hotel, which was a large imposing brick building, an hour later. It was like a stately home inside, with large ornate fireplaces, overstuffed sofas and gilt-framed pictures. They were shown to a large sitting room and given menus to peruse while they waited for their table.

“This is lovely,” said Abby as she looked around. Twelve years she’d been in Britain and she was still awed at the age of the buildings, the years of history rooms like this represented.

“Andy Murray owns this hotel,” said Marcus as he looked through the menu.

“The tennis player?”

“Aye.”

“Oh, wow.”

Oliver was awed into silence too, his mouth agape as he perched on the sofa, his small legs dangling over the edge, and looked around.

“What would you like to eat, Oliver?” said Marcus, putting on his glasses so he could see the menu and reeling off an incomprehensible list of meals to the open-mouthed boy.

“Pasta,” was the response.

“I’m not sure they have pasta. What about fish, or chicken?”

Oliver shrugged and pulled Saur from his pocket, started racing him over the sofa, behind the cushions.

“Chicken it is then,” said Marcus. “What about you, Abby?”

Abby read the extensive menu again. Some of the items she’d never heard of. What was Grenobloise? She decided to stick with the most traditional meal on the menu. “I’ll have the Aberdeen Angus beef and Yorkshire Pudding.”

“That’s very tempting,” said Marcus, “but I think I’ll have the venison.”

Abby looked down the menu to find his choice. “What the hell’s a poivrade sauce?”

“It’s a pepper sauce. Poivre is pepper in French.”

“Ah.”

Marcus gave their order to the waiter who then showed them to their private room. There was a large bay window at the end of the room that gave a view onto a small lawn backed by fir trees. The highly polished table sat in front of a green marble fireplace. The table was set with silver chandeliers and white plates decorated with a cockerel.

The hotel staff had put a toybox in the bay window and Oliver made a beeline for it, emptying out various items until he found a wooden train with a set of carriages. He drove it across the carpet, following the curves of the flowers that were set into the pattern.

“He’s happy,” said Marcus with a relieved sigh.

“I’m sure he’d be fine with other diners, Marcus. He’s eaten out plenty of times before.”

“I know. I just wanted us all to feel relaxed and unrestricted.”

“Okay.” Abby looked at Marcus as he took off his glasses and sat down. Oliver was usually well behaved when they went to a restaurant so she wasn’t sure why Marcus had felt the need to pay all this money to feel relaxed. It wasn’t as though Oliver ran through restaurants screaming like she’d seen some children do.

“I’ve always wanted to come here,” said Marcus.

“What made you decide to bring us here now?”

“It just felt like the right time.”

He was hiding something from her, Abby was sure of it.

“Is there something bothering you?”

“No, no, of course not.” He shook his head but he didn’t look up at her.

“Are you lying to me, Marcus Kane?” Abby said, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to dodge such a direct question.

He looked up at her finally, his dark eyes liquid in the filtered daylight. “Not really.”

“Not really, so that means yes. What’s the matter, love?” she said softly.

“Nothing tangible. I’ve just started to feel a little out of control the last few days, that’s all.”

Abby nodded. “Is that why you came with us to Stirling on Friday?”

“I didn’t feel able to be one on one with Oliver all day. I wasn’t sure I could control myself. My fuse was getting short.”

Abby reached across the table and took his hand. “It’s a lot to cope with being alone with him for so long. You’re doing a wonderful job.”

“I don’t think it’s really Oliver, though,” he said as the waiter brought them a bottle of wine and poured a shot for Marcus to taste. “Lovely, thank you.” When the waiter had gone he poured a glass for Abby and a small one for himself.

“What do you think it is?” said Abby, although she suspected she knew, that it was the same thing that was keeping her awake for longer than she should be at night.

Marcus took a long draught of his wine. “The cave,” he said. “We shouldn’t have gone there.”

“We didn’t know we were going to see men with guns,” said Abby in a quiet voice so Oliver couldn’t hear. He was oblivious anyway, crawling around the carpet with his train, making whistling noises.

“It’s not just them. It’s... I was surprised how much it affected me going in there.”

Abby had been hiding her own feelings about the cave from Marcus since they’d first gone there. It was time to admit how she felt to him. “I felt the same,” she said.

Marcus’s hand flexed beneath hers, and she tightened her grip. “Did you?”

“Yes, when I was lying on the grass with Oliver, I had a flashback.”

Marcus furrowed his brow. “You never said!”

“There was a lot going on. I know I’m supposed to tell you. I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I have no right to admonish you when I’ve done the same thing myself.”

“Will we ever be over it?” said Abby, her voice tight with the tears she was trying to hold in.

Marcus put his hand on his chest. “Not all wounds heal fully.”

“I still see him,” sobbed Abby, a tear finally escaping and rolling down her cheek.

“I know. I know.” Marcus put his other hand out and they sat like that across the table, not speaking, but taking strength from each other, until the waiter came with their meals, forcing them apart.

“Come on, Ollie,” said Marcus in a cheerful voice Abby knew it was an effort for him to adopt. “Let’s eat.”

Oliver entertained them with his chatter about all his various toys, Bun Bun, Freddy, what he was going to do with Marcus next week, all the things that were important in his small world. It was hard to feel sad for long when he was on top form, and Abby and Marcus were soon laughing with him. Abby was grateful every day for him, for the joy he brought to their lives. She caught Marcus’s eye across the table and knew from his smile that he was thinking the same thing. It felt good having told him about the flashback. She should have said something at the time but despite their closeness, their deep bond, they were still two stubborn individuals at times, and she wanted to spare him the pain of going back to that moment as he probably wanted to spare her the same.

The food was amazing, the beef succulent, the fondant potatoes soft and creamy. Abby didn’t think she had room for dessert but Marcus persuaded her to have the apple tarte tatin with vanilla ice cream and Abby wasn’t sure if she’d die of a heart attack or pleasure first.

“God, that was fantastic,” she said when she could eat no more.

Marcus and Oliver had shared a chocolate truffle cake with caramelised pear and ice cream, which in reality meant that Marcus ate the pear and truffle part of the cake while Oliver ate the sponge which he swirled into his ice cream, making an unholy mess that looked like something Abby couldn’t describe in polite company. Normally Marcus would tell him off for playing with his food like that, but today he indulged him, even stealing a spoonful of the mixture much to Oliver’s annoyance.

“Looks awful, tastes amazing,” Marcus said to Abby as he licked the spoon.

She sat watching them finish their meal, her hand on her bulging belly. “Food baby,” she said to Marcus when he looked at her. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing, though she knew what he was thinking.

He’d have had another baby if she’d said yes, she knew that, but she’d thought then that it was more a fantasy he liked to indulge in than a genuine wish. One child was enough for them to cope with, especially with his OCD and their shared PTSD. Today had shown her they’d made the right decision, no matter how tempting it was now that Oliver was growing up. Time was running out anyway. She hadn’t had any menopause symptoms yet, but it would surely happen soon, and then it would be too late. She was too old, anyway. She’d been labelled a geriatric mother by the hospital when she was pregnant with Oliver. What the hell would they call her now at forty-seven?

She shook her head. She was becoming maudlin, and they were having such a lovely time. Better to celebrate the wonderful life they’d been blessed with than dwell on the past or a future that will never be.

They retired to two armchairs adjacent to the window while the waiter brought coffee and petit four with a tea for Marcus.

“All dining experiences should be like this,” said Abby with a contented sigh.

“Is my cooking not fine dining enough for Madame?” said Marcus pretending to be offended.

“You don’t give me delicate pastries with my coffee.”

“You’re lucky I allow coffee in the house, never mind having pastries with it.”

“Oh, you ALLOW me to have coffee, do you? How honoured I am.”

“Disgusting stuff,” said Marcus smiling.

“Don’t worry, I’ve brought my mints, not that you’re getting to kiss me later.”

“I won’t be kissing your mouth,” he said, sending a shiver through Abby’s body straight to the region he was referring to.

“Where are you kissing mummy?” Oliver appeared from behind their chairs and stood in front of them with his hands on his hips.

Abby laughed and Marcus reddened. “Erm, I’ll be blowing raspberries on her belly like I do to you.”

Oliver blew spit bubbles out of his mouth in a poor imitation of this.

“Lovely,” said Abby as she caught his arm and brought him to her. She wiped his face clean as he wriggled and dabbed the chocolate that had dribbled onto his sweater. “Why can’t you stay clean for five minutes?”

“I like mess,” he said with a shrug and then went back to his train.

“I thought a child of yours would be easy to tidy up after,” she grumbled.

“You forget he’s half yours.” Marcus leant back in his chair and closed his eyes, ignoring Abby’s indignant cry.

Abby sipped her coffee and thought over their conversation about the cave. “Do you feel like you need to see your therapist?” she said after a few minutes silence.

“I don’t think she’ll make a house call up here,” Marcus said.

“You can Skype her.”

“Perhaps.” He took a sip of his tea. “I don’t like that side of my life intruding on our holiday.”

“I know you don’t, but it already has.”

“True.” He studied Abby for a moment, and she knew what was coming next. “I could ask her to come here and see both of us.” He looked at her hopefully.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary.” Abby picked up her cup and held it in front of her, taking small sips so she didn’t have to put it down.

“You’re still traumatised but you’ve never talked about it.”

“I’ve talked about it with you.”

“I’m not a professional.”

“You’re all I need.”

Marcus sighed. “Why won’t you talk to someone?”

“I don’t know. I just. I can’t.”

“When you met me did you ever think I would be somebody who would go to therapy?”

Abby shook her head. They’d had this conversation a few times before.

“No,” continued Marcus, answering for her, “but it has helped me enormously, you can’t deny that.”

“It’s not for everybody, Marcus.”

“I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy. Really, I am.”

He stroked his hair with his hand, smoothing down a non-existent kink. “Okay,” he said, his tone resigned.

“Let’s not spoil any more of this day with talk of the past.” Abby reached out and grabbed his hand.

“Will you tell me, though, one day? How you truly feel?”

“Yes. I promise.” She meant it, even though she didn’t know when that time might be.

“Okay,” he squeezed her hand. “Shall we go for a walk in the grounds before we head home?”

“That would be lovely.”

They walked hand in hand through the gardens, sticking to the paths because Abby’s heels had sunk into the soft grass when they’d tried to walk across the lawn. Oliver ran ahead. The air smelt like fresh leaves after the rain and Abby took a deep breath.

“Nothing like being in nature to chase the blues away,” said Marcus.

“That and our boy are the best therapy.”

“I can’t disagree with that.” He leaned in and kissed her hair. Abby put her arm around his waist and he did the same to her and they walked like that, squeezed together on the narrow path.

“Two more weeks and then I’ll be free!”

“What do you want to do most?”

“Lie in bed,” Abby laughed.

“With a four-year-old? Fat chance.”

“Soon to be five.”

Marcus groaned. “Next week. Does Murphy know what he’s doing for the party?”

“Yes, don’t worry. It’s all in hand.”

Oliver stopped to examine something in the grass.

“I hope he hasn’t found another animal,” said Marcus as they too stopped to watch their son.

“It’s probably a worm.”

“I don’t want him to be five,” Marcus said suddenly. Abby wasn’t too surprised at his outburst. This was a common theme with him.

“It’s not easy watching him grow up.”

“It happens so fast. Next thing he’ll be ten and then fifteen and he’ll have a girlfriend and he’ll want to stay out all hours and get up to God knows what.”

“Don’t wish his life away!”

“I can’t help it sometimes. It goes so fast.”

Ahead of them Oliver picked up a worm and dangled it in the air.

“See, he’s still a little boy.” Oliver turned to look at them, mischief on his face. “Don’t you eat that, Oliver!” Abby set off towards him as fast as she could on her heels and caught his hand before the worm made it to his mouth. “Put it down. Worms belong in the earth, not in your mouth.”

“I was only going to lick it.”

“Do you think the worm wants your big wet tongue all over it?” said Marcus as he approached.

“Why not?”

“It’s not what worms want. Worms only lick other worms, humans only lick...” Marcus trailed off because there was no good end to that sentence.

“Ice cream,” said Abby to save his blushes. “Humans lick ice cream.”

Oliver huffed dramatically as he put the worm back on the grass. “I bet it would have tasted yummy,” he said.

“Well, you’ll never know.” Marcus grasped Oliver’s hand. “You can hold mummy and daddy’s hands on the way back.”

“Will you swing me?”

“If you promise to stop licking worms.”

“Okay.”

That bargain made, they walked towards their car swinging Oliver into the air every few steps much to his delight.

\---

Abby put Marcus’s favourite classical music on in the bedroom while she waited for him to return from checking on Oliver, who had been in bed a while but had been snuffling in his sleep. She hoped he wasn’t going to come down with a cold. She opened the bi-fold doors, went out onto the balcony. It had rained again, and the air was cool, the sky grey and heavy with moisture. Abby liked this weather. It was so different to California, and in Scotland you could have anything from snow to hail to rain to bright sunshine in a day. She understood now the British obsession with the sweater, or jumper as Marcus called it. Coping with the weather was all about layering.

“He’s a little warm but I think it’s with the weather being so close.” Marcus slid his arms around her waist, his voice a low rumble in her ear.

“Keep an eye on him tomorrow.”

“I will.” Marcus nuzzled her hair, moved it to the side, kissed her neck. “I’ve been looking forward to undressing you all day.”

Abby caught her breath. A shiver ran through her making her limbs weak. “Did you buy this just so you could take it off?”

“Are you complaining?” He brushed his fingers across the back of her neck, making the hairs stand up, then slipped the straps of her dress off her shoulders.

“Not at all.” Abby closed her eyes, giving herself up to the touch of his fingers as they caressed the skin of her arms, trailed down the hollow of her back.

The bodice of her dress was down to her waist now, and Marcus’s hands snaked around to the front. He groaned as he took a breast in each hand, squeezing them before rolling her nipples between finger and thumb. Abby moaned and leant back against him, her head on his chest. He massaged her nipples into stiff peaks, then pushed the skirt of her dress down. Abby stepped out of it and Marcus bent to pick it up and lay it on the chair. She was naked now apart from her knickers, and Marcus turned her so she was facing him, put his hands on her arse and pressed her to him.

“You just get sexier, Mrs Kane,” he said before kissing her until they were both breathless.

Abby unfastened his Chinos, pushed them and his underpants down in one go. Marcus kicked them away. He raised his arms so she could take his t-shirt off, then he lifted her and carried her to the bed, depositing her on her back and kneeling before her. He leant forward, trailed kisses all over her skin, stopping to suck on each nipple before reaching her belly. He put his hand on it, caressed her, pressed a soft kiss to the swell of it, then eased her knickers down. Abby watched his dark head as it moved south, waited for the warmth of his tongue as it darted out to part her lips so he could lick between them. She loved him so much it hurt sometimes. She reached down, caressed his hair, twirled a loose wave around her finger.

“Ohhhhh,” she moaned as he probed deeper with his tongue, splitting her wide open, getting right to the fleshy heart of her.

Marcus mumbled something but she couldn’t tell what it was because most of his face was buried in her sex. She lay back, concentrated all of her energy on the heat he was building up. She wanted to hold on as long as possible, make it all the sweeter. It was tough on Marcus, but he never seemed to mind how long he was down there. Her orgasm flushed through her whole body from her toes to the roots of her hair. “Jesus,” she said.

Marcus smiled as he looked up at her. “Good?”

“Mmmm.” Abby could hardly speak.

“Marks out of ten?”

“Twenty,” she mumbled, and then she closed her eyes to concentrate on the tingles that were still affecting the tips of her fingers and toes. She felt Marcus move up the bed so he was alongside her, and she turned and curled into his arms.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. He was looking down at her, his own eyes heavy with desire.

“I love having you as my dessert,” he said.

“You already had a dessert today.”

“True, but you’re tastier than chocolate truffle cake.”

“A high compliment.”

Marcus smiled. “You wanted me to do something earlier.”

“Did I?”

“Yes. You said, ‘I want you to’ and then Squirrel Nutkin came into the room.”

“Ah, yes. Well I’ve changed my mind since then.” She ran a finger down his chest to his nipple, which she pinched, eliciting a soft moan from him.

“What do you want?”

Abby slipped her hand lower, her fingers tracing the soft hairs on his abdomen until she reached his cock, which jerked up when she grazed it with her fingernail.

“I want you to fuck me. Hard.” She circled the head of his cock with the same finger, inserting the tip into the slit on the top.

“Fuck!” he said, jumping at her touch.

She coated her thumb in the juice that was leaking out and massaged him with it. “Don’t spare me,” she said. He looked at her, and she knew that he knew why she wanted it this way. His eyes glinted in the shaft of moonlight that fell across their bodies.

“Lie back,” he said.

“No. From behind.” Abby turned onto her front, laid her head to the side so she could see the shadow of him as he lowered himself onto her. It wasn’t the most romantic of positions, but sometimes... sometimes she wanted to be fucked into oblivion, to feel nothing except his relentless pounding, the heavy weight of him pinning her to the bed, the way it made her feel at his mercy and powerful at the same time. Powerful, because only she could induce him to be like this, to let go completely, to make love primally, like nothing else mattered.

Marcus trailed a finger down her back, making Abby’s muscles ripple. He put his hands on her arse cheeks, caressed them, before parting them and running a finger along her slit. She groaned as she felt the tip of his cock nudge at her entrance, and then let out a cry when he pushed all the way in, pressing her into the mattress.

He grunted as he thrust hard into her, the sound of it turning Abby to liquid beneath him. He planted his hands either side of her head, bent to kiss her cheek, then started to fuck her in earnest, his groin slapping against her arse, pushing her forward with the power of his thrusts. Abby turned her head and buried her cries in the pillow.

Harder and harder he thrust, his cock stretching her, hitting the deepest parts of her as he pumped in and out. She turned her face to the side again. His hand was next to her shoulder and she put her hand on top, laced her fingers through his, to show him she was okay, and to encourage him.

Neither of them spoke. Marcus was grunting and breathing heavily. Abby let out a cry with every breath. There were tears too, that she hoped he couldn’t see, although he would know, because it was always the same when they did it like this.

Marcus put all his weight on her as he upped his tempo. “I love you. I love you,” he whispered like he always did because he felt guilty for fucking her so hard, even though it was what she wanted. He enjoyed it though too, they both did, and that added to the overall pain and pleasure of it.

Abby’s orgasm was so intense it made her head throb with the pressure. She sometimes worried she’d have an aneurysm it was so acute, but then the heat that spread through her as a result was worth it.

She buried her head again, cried her sadness and frustrations away as loudly as she dared. Marcus’s cry was spontaneous and unfettered when he came deep within her, and then he muffled the rest of his moans in her hair. “Are you okay?” he murmured.

“Yes. Thank you.”

Marcus rolled onto his side and turned Abby so she was lying in front of him. He put his hand on her belly and she covered it with hers. He kissed the back of her hair. “I think we both needed that.”

“It’s a release.”

“Yes.” He kissed her again, then curled his legs so he could spoon her. Abby could feel his cock against her arse, still warm and heavy. It was comforting, and she closed her eyes, adjusted her breathing so it matched his, and fell asleep.


	10. Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peaceful day at the holiday park is interrupted by two visitors.

Monday of Abby’s penultimate week teaching the class and it was raining so they were in the classroom at the Holiday Park. Bellamy and Octavia were working with Indra on a large mural that was decorating the long wall of the room. It was possibly the most frightening artwork Abby had ever seen in this classroom, with its gaping black holes and splashes of red everywhere. She wondered what the hell went through the minds of some of her students sometimes.

“That’s looking good,” she said to the group.

Bellamy smiled. “Thanks, Abby. I think we’ll be there by the end of the week.”

“Well ahead of time,” said Abby, impressed with the students’ dedication and interest if she wasn’t with their choice of theme.

Indra nodded but didn’t speak and Octavia ignored her altogether.

“The way you are adding shade to that section is very clever, Octavia,” said Abby, hoping to get some response.

Octavia shrugged, which wasn’t much, but at least proved she’d heard Abby.

Abby walked around the rest of the class. Echo was weaving a life-size figure from willow. It looked suspiciously like Bellamy to Abby and if she wasn’t mistaken he wasn’t wearing any clothes. Abby hoped that if they were about to get a naked anatomically correct Bellamy from Echo then he would at least be in a state of dormancy. She had no desire to see a willow erection, although it would be interesting to see how Echo managed it.

The girl arched one perfectly manicured eyebrow as Abby observed her. “What do you think?” she said.

Abby didn’t know how to respond to a sculpture of one of her students. She wanted to say you have captured his form well, which Echo had, but that sounded as though Abby had studied Bellamy’s form, which she hadn’t until this sculpture began to take shape. “It’s taking shape,” she said lamely, but Echo seemed satisfied as she smiled and nodded.

Sinclair had transformed since Friday. His painting today was bold and free. Abby hoped the conversation they’d had in Stirling had helped him to find the deeper parts of himself and express them through his art. It was what she and the students were here to try and achieve, although it didn’t happen for everyone. She’d worried that Sinclair was too withdrawn to get the most out of the class, but he was fast becoming her most successful student.

“Wonderful,” she said as she passed him, and he gave her the warmest of smiles that lit up his dark brown eyes.

“Thank you,” he said.

There was only Clarke left to see. She was sitting at the front of the class as usual. Abby approached from behind and could see that her canvas had nothing more than a few strokes upon it.

“Clarke,” she said in a soft voice. “Are you okay?”

Clarke turned; her eyes bright with unshed tears.

“Oh, sweetheart,” said Abby, and she went up to her, put her hand on Clarke’s shoulder, pressed her close. “It will be alright.”

“You don’t know that,” said Clarke, pulling away after a second.

“No, but I’m going to make sure of it. I promise.”

Clarke gave a deep sigh. “Did you speak to that detective?”

“Not yet, but he told Marcus he might call up today, so I will tell him then.”

“I spent the weekend terrified he would come back again.”

Abby’s heart swelled at the thought of Clarke scared and alone. “You should have called me. You could have spent the weekend with us.”

“You wouldn’t want me there. Kane wouldn’t.”

“Marcus would, and Oliver definitely would. He has a soft spot for you.”

“He is adorable.”

Abby smiled proudly. “When he’s not eating worms or rolling around in the mud.”

Clarke laughed. “What is it with him and the worms?”

“I really don’t know! He’s been like that since he first started to walk. Marcus took him up on the hills near our English home all the time, and I think maybe Ollie just feels comfortable with nature and wants to explore it. Unfortunately, he explores it with his tongue!”

“So cute,” said Clarke.

“Yes.” Abby smiled. “Are you going to make an attempt at some art today, or is this all we can expect?”

“I’ll try. I wasn’t really feeling it before.”

“I know, but this is your outlet, Clarke. This is where you let it all go.”

Clarke nodded. “Okay.”

\---

Just before it was time to break for lunch, Murphy entered the classroom. “Yer husband’s here,” he said, “with his mini-me and some other dude.”

“Okay, thank you, John.” Abby looked at the class. “We might as well break for lunch. I’ll see you in the mess as soon as I’m through with Marcus.”

Abby left before the students and headed towards the admin office. Marcus and Oliver were sitting at the picnic tables with John and Detective Pike.

“Hi,” she said as she approached. Oliver ran towards her and Pike stood up.

“Mrs Kane.”

“Call me Abby, please,” she said as she lifted Oliver and swung him into the air. “Hi baby. What a lovely surprise to see you.”

“We’re going swimming!” said Oliver as she set him down.

“That’s wonderful.”

“Pike called round to the house,” said Marcus, “so I persuaded him to come here. He might as well update us together, and you want to talk to him, don’t you?”

“I do, but I’m eager to hear what you’ve found out about, erm, the other day.” Abby sat down opposite Marcus and Pike. She was conscious that Murphy was hovering nearby and didn’t want him to know about the treasure yet.

“I have to serve the students,” said John. “I’ll bring you some food.” He headed for the Mess.

“It hasn’t been easy finding any information,” said Pike, rubbing beads of sweat from his bald head. “The coins weren’t reported stolen, but I have found out where they come from.”

“Where’s that?” said Abby and Marcus in unison.

“I can’t tell you that, but it’s a private collection and the owner hasn’t officially reported the theft and doesn’t want the police involved.”

“What are they hiding?” said Marcus.

“Nothing as far as I can tell. I don’t really understand these collector types, but I spoke to a buddy of mine at the Met and often these collections have a dubious history, long before their current owners, and no one wants them reclaimed by some former colony, so if anything goes wrong it’s kept quiet.”

“I see.” Marcus picked Oliver up and sat him on his knee. “So what’s next?”

“There were no forensics on the case. It was a former ammunition box from the second world war as you said, but there’s no way to trace its former owner. The best thing I can do is keep my ear to the grapevine, see what comes up.”

“Presumably the thieves will want to sell them at some point?” said Abby.

“Not necessarily. They could have been stolen to order for another collector. They might never see the light of day.”

Marcus sighed. “Well, thank you for taking the time to investigate it.”

“It’s my job,” said Pike.

“Of course.”

Murphy returned at that moment balancing two trays with four covered plates on them. “Today’s special is shepherd’s pie. If you don’t like that, tough.” He set the plates down in front of them all including Oliver.

“I really should be going,” said Pike without uncovering his food.

“I need to speak to you about another matter,” said Abby. “Perhaps we could talk while we eat?”

“If you insist,” replied Pike.

He was definitely a misogynist, thought Abby. He’d been fine talking to Marcus and then as soon as she wanted to talk to him he went all cold and uninterested. She wasn’t going to let him get away with that, though.

“I do. Thank you.” Abby picked up her plate and moved to the next table so that Oliver and Murphy couldn’t hear what she was saying. “I don’t know if you heard, but we had a break-in at the camp on Friday.”

“I did hear something about it, yes.” Pike spooned a mouthful of mince and potatoes into his mouth. “Mmm, this is quite good.”

“John is a good cook. Do you know if there is any news on it?”

“It’s not my department, but I know there was a recent burglary at the Lodge a few miles from here, so maybe it’s connected to that.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.”

“No,” said Pike in a voice that suggested he wasn’t surprised that she didn’t know anything. Abby bristled, but chose to let it go. She wanted him to help her with Clarke, and that was the most important thing.

“Well, one of my students here was concerned that the break-in could have been to do with her. We didn’t have anything stolen, so it might suggest a different motive.”

“I doubt it,” replied Pike. “But let’s hear it.”

Abby told him Clarke’s story, hoping he was listening while he shovelled shepherd’s pie down his throat.

“It’s a bit of a stretch, isn’t it, some guy coming all the way up here to mess with her?”

“I think so too, but Clarke is convinced, and I promised her I’d look into it.”

“Why didn’t you tell the police constable about it when you reported the break-in? That would make more sense.”

“Clarke didn’t want to make a fuss or antagonise the man more. I thought you might be able to look into it quietly, what with your experience and connections.” The flattery stuck in her throat, but it was having the desired effect because Pike was looking at her with more interest.

“I suppose I could check up on the lad, see where he is.”

“That would be wonderful. It’s all I ask,” said Abby, relieved to have kept one part of her promise to Clarke.

“No problem.” Pike finished his meal and sat back. “You have a nice set-up here.”

“Thank you. We work hard to...”

“Pity you’re wasting your time.” Pike interrupted before Abby could finish.

“Excuse me?”

“Delinquents will always be delinquents. They can’t be changed.”

“I’m afraid you’re wrong there. I have many success stories from the art therapy I’ve been teaching over the years.”

“And how long do you track them for? The vast majority reoffends in the end.” Pike gave her a long, smug look.

“The evidence doesn’t bear that out.” Abby remembered a similar comment from Marcus when she first met him, although he’d never been as obnoxious as Pike. He’d changed his mind when he’d seen the results of her therapy. It was annoying that this man who knew nothing about her was dismissing her and her work so quickly.

“I’ll look into Clarke’s situation,” said Pike, choosing not to respond and instead to get up from the table. He headed towards Marcus without so much as a by your leave, and Abby had no choice but to follow him.

“I’ll be in touch if I find out anything more, Mr Kane,” he said, shaking Marcus’s hand. “Mrs Kane.” He bowed his head slightly towards Abby and then got into his car and left.

“Goddamn idiot,” said Abby as soon as he’d gone.

“Abby!” said Marcus, putting his hands over Oliver’s ears.

“I don’t like him,” said Abby, aware that she was pouting but not caring.

“I can see that.” Marcus got up and walked towards her, pulling her into his arms. “What happened? Is he not going to check on Clarke’s ex?”

“Yes, he’s going to check.”

“Then what’s the problem?” He kissed her head.

“He’s just a pig.”

“He seems okay to me.”

“That’s cause you’re a man.”

Marcus kissed her again. “Probably.”

Murphy returned to collect their plates. “Who was that guy?” he said.

“No one important,” said Abby, and she sat down next to Oliver who was still eating his lunch. “Is that good, Ollie?”

“Mmm,” he said, gravy dribbling down his chin.

The students came out into the sunshine after finishing their lunches and Abby took Clarke to one side.

“I’ve spoken to the detective I told you about.”

“Oh, really? What did he say?”

“He’s going to look into it, but he told me there was a similar break-in down at the Lodge recently and he thinks its more likely to be related to that.”

Relief flickered in Clarke’s eyes. “What do you think?”

“I think he’s probably right.” Abby gave Clarke a reassuring smile.

“Thanks for talking to him, Abby.”

“Any time. Remember you can always come to me.”

Clarke nodded. “Can I play with Oliver for a bit?”

“Yes, but don’t run him around too much. He’s just had his lunch and you don’t want to be washing shepherd’s pie out of your nice jacket.”

“Okay.” Clarke took Oliver over to the swings and Abby watched as she pushed him gently, ignoring his cries to go higher and faster.

Abby was about to sit next to Marcus when there was a commotion near the caravans. A man and woman were screaming at each other. “What the hell’s that?” said Abby, looking around quickly. “All the students are here.”

“I’ll go and check.” Marcus marched off in the direction of the caravans with Abby running behind. “Be careful.”

Murphy and the students followed them, and Abby shouted to Clarke who was still over at the swing. “Keep Oliver there!” Clarke nodded in return.

As they approached the last row of caravans Abby saw Charmaine and a tall man arguing with each other. Arguing was too polite a word; they were screaming and shouting, and the man grabbed Charmain’s arm.

“You’re coming with me!” he shouted.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, you dipshit moron!” Charmaine struggled but the man held her tight.

“You’re getting in this car if I have to fucking kill you to do it!”

“Hey!” shouted Marcus as he strode towards them. “Get your hands off her.”

The man ignored Marcus, started to drag Charmaine towards the car park. “Get off me! Get off me!” she yelled but she wasn’t as strong as her assailant, not in her condition, and he easily overpowered her.

Marcus broke into a run, and someone pushed past Abby to join him. It was Indra, followed by Murphy. Abby’s heart started to race. Marcus reached the man and grabbed at him, but the man flung his arm out and caught Marcus in the face. He reeled away, clutching his nose.

“Marcus!” shouted Abby, and she ran towards him.

“Stay there,” he said, holding his hand up. He wiped blood from his face and resumed his pursuit of the man, reaching him at the same time as Indra and Murphy. Between them they got him away from Charmaine, pushed him up against the wall of the caravan and held him there.

Abby rushed to Charmaine, who was shaking. “Are you okay?” She tried to put her arm around the woman, but she pushed her away.

“I’m fine. Let me at him.”

“No.” Abby realised Charmaine wasn’t shaking with fear but with anger. She tried again to hold onto her but was again pushed away. “Think of your baby,” she said as a last resort, and that made Charmaine stop. The students were gathered around her watching the scene. Sinclair stepped forward and Abby deposited Charmaine into his care.

She headed over to where Marcus, Indra and Murphy were holding the man. Abby didn’t like the look of him at all. His hair was shaved on one side and flopped into his eyes on the other. He looked strong, his arms well-muscled, his t-shirt stretched tight across his chest.

“What is going on here?” she said.

He looked Abby and Marcus up and down, a frown on his face. “Who the fuck are you?” he said in a slow drawl.

“I’m the owner of this park, and Charmaine is our guest.”

“Guest! A fucking leach is what she is.”

“I take it you’re the father of her baby,” said Marcus.

“Allegedly,” the man growled.

“You’re the fucking father and you know it, McCreary,” shouted Charmaine.

“It’s clear to me that Charmaine doesn’t want to see you right now, so I’m going to ask you to leave.” Marcus moved closer to McCreary, staring him directly in the eye.

“I ain’t going anywhere without HER.” McCreary struggled but Indra and Murphy were holding him tight.

Abby stood next to Marcus. “Look, Mr McCreary,” she said in the calm soothing voice she used with Oliver when he was having a tantrum. “You can’t expect us to let a pregnant woman leave with a man who has threatened her violence.”

“This is none of your business, lady.”

“You made it our business by coming onto our property and threatening one of our guests. I suggest you leave as my husband says and take the time to calm down. If you want to talk to Charmaine then I’d be happy to arrange a meeting here at a convenient time.”

McCreary stared at her and then at Marcus for a time that was long enough to make Abby feel uncomfortable. He looked across to Charmaine. “I’ll be back,” he said.

“You can come back at an agreed time. I’ll be in touch.” Abby nodded to Indra and Murphy who reluctantly let McCreary go.

Marcus followed him to his car and then out to the road, looking up the lane until McCreary must have been long out of sight. Abby returned to Charmaine. “Are you sure you’re okay? He didn’t hurt you?”

“I’m fine. I could have handled him. I don’t need you.” Charmaine glowered at Abby.

Abby brushed off the response. You were never thanked for intervening in domestic incidents. She’d learned that years ago when she’d tried to help two friends who were abusing each other from what she could see. Neither of them had talked to her again. That had never stopped her from trying to help when necessary, though.

“I’ve no doubt you could handle him under normal circumstances, but these aren’t normal.” She indicated Charmaine’s enormous belly. “I mean what I say about meeting him under controlled conditions. I’ll help you with that.”

“Fine.” Charmaine rolled her eyes. “I’m going back to my caravan.”

“I’ll help you,” said Sinclair and Abby left them to it.

“Back to work, everyone,” she said to the students. “Can you take the class for a while, John. I want to see to Marcus.”

“Hope his pretty face isn’t too damaged,” he said, with a look that said he hoped the exact opposite.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine. Thank you for helping out back there. Can you do me one last favour and take Oliver with you until I get back?”

Murphy nodded and when he’d left, Abby went to find Marcus who was in the shower block holding a wad of toilet paper to his face.

“Are you okay?” she said, pulling the paper away from his face so she could look at the wound. His lip had split which was the cause of most of the blood. She dabbed at the injury.

“I’ll live,” he muttered when she’d finished.

“How’s your nose?”

Marcus felt gingerly along its length. “Not broken.”

“Oh, good.”

“I don’t know, could have bent it the other way, made it straight.”

“We wouldn’t want that. I love your nose the way it is.” Abby stood on tiptoes and planted a soft kiss to the bridge of his nose where it curved slightly.

“I don’t like this McCreary guy, Abby. I knew he’d be trouble and he is. He’s a thug.”

“He is, but we can’t let Charmaine go back to him; not yet, Marcus.”

Marcus sighed. “I know, but the minute he threatens you or our boy or anyone here she’s gone. I don’t care if I have to put her up in a hotel at my own expense. I don’t want this kind of trouble again.” He looked in the mirror, ran a shaky hand through his waves which had fallen loose in the melee. Like with Charmaine, Abby thought the shake was more likely to be from anger and adrenaline than fear, plus some throwback to the last time they were involved in an altercation.

She took his hand, turned him so he was facing her. “You were wonderful with him. Reminded me of that time in Blackpool when you saw off that creepy guy.”

Marcus gave a weak laugh. “You were the amazing one, getting him to calm down the way you did. I was in awe.”

“Plenty of practice with Oliver.”

“Yes.” Marcus brought her hands to his lips and kissed them. “Let’s hope that’s the last we see of him.”

“Somehow I doubt that will be the case.”

“I know, but let me comfort us with that thought for a while.”

“Okay. Let’s go and find our son and get on with the day. I’m not letting this guy spoil another second of our time here.”


	11. Birthday Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Oliver's birthday, and he's not the only one to enjoy one of his presents ;)

Oliver woke Abby and Marcus on the morning of his birthday by launching himself onto their bed and shouting “it’s my birthday!” at the top of his lungs.

“What the?” groaned Marcus as he curled into a tight ball, his hands over his privates.

“Are you okay?” said Abby, pulling Oliver down on top of her and cuddling him. “Happy birthday, baby!”

“It’s a good job we’re not having any more children, because I doubt I could father them.” Marcus took a deep breath. “Come here,” he said, and he dragged Oliver towards him and tickled him, causing the boy to scream with agonised pleasure. “Happy birthday, squirrel.”

“Stop, daddy, stop!” cried Oliver, laughing.

“No.” Marcus rolled around the bed trying to tickle Oliver until he ended up on his back. Oliver climbed on top of him and tried to tickle his father in return. Abby knew Marcus wasn’t ticklish apart from in one place that Oliver would never know about, but she laughed as he pretended he was and cried and shouted at Oliver to stop.

“Now I got you, daddy.”

“Help me, mummy!” cried Marcus.

“Oh, I don’t think so. I think maybe I’ll have to join in.” She tickled Marcus alongside Oliver until Marcus put his hands in the air.

“I give in! I give in.”

“What do you think, Ollie? Shall we take pity on daddy?”

“I spose we could.”

“You’d better, or I won’t be able to get your birthday present.” Marcus rained kisses on the top of Oliver’s head before the boy pulled away in excitement.

“Yay! Present!” Oliver hauled himself to his feet and started jumping on the bed.

“That’s it, I’m up,” said Marcus. “Don’t want further injury.” He pulled on his black t-shirt then bent so that Oliver could clamber onto his back. “Let’s see what the birthday fairy has brought you.”

“There’s no birthday fairy,” said Oliver, patting Marcus on the head.

“No that’s right. There’s just a hard-working mummy and daddy.”

Abby lingered in the bed a second longer, enjoying the view as a boxer-clad Marcus strode out of the room with their son on his back, then she got up and stepped into her pyjama bottoms before following them down the stairs.

After Oliver had gone to bed the previous night they’d blown up balloons, stuck birthday greeting banners all over the room and wrapped his smaller presents before collapsing into bed, making tired love and falling fast asleep.

Oliver ran over to the balloons, kicking them around the room, then picking them up and throwing them at Marcus and Abby who batted them back.

“We should have just stuck with these,” said Marcus. “He seems entertained and it would have been a lot cheaper.”

“Don’t be such an old misery,” said Abby as she batted one of the balloons at Marcus’s head.

A squeal alerted them to the fact that Oliver had found the stash of presents so they sat on the floor next to him and Marcus got his camera ready to photograph him opening them.

Oliver was like Abby when it came to opening gifts. He preferred to rip the paper off and get at the contents as quickly as possible, whereas Marcus meticulously opened everything so neatly the paper could be used again, and in fact had been. Abby had received Christmas presents wrapped in the same paper she’d used for Marcus at least three years in a row.

“Who is that from?” said Marcus as Oliver ripped into the first present.

“I dunno,” he said with a shrug. He looked at the cardboard box with a frown. “What is it, daddy?”

Abby searched amongst the debris for a label. “Oh, it’s from Raven! How lovely.”

“Give it to me,” said Marcus and he took the box from Oliver. “It’s a smart watch for kids,” he said showing it to Abby.

“A what?” Abby opened the box and took out the watch. “Oh, it’s cool! It takes pictures and has games on it.”

“Does it tell the time?” said Marcus, holding out his hand for Abby to give him the watch.

“Of course it does. It will help him learn.”

“Hmm,” said Marcus as he turned the watch over in his hand, pressing various buttons to see what they would do, accidentally taking a picture of his hairy leg. “It seems okay,” he said and when he pressed another button his words came out of the watch only in a robotic-sounding voice.”

Oliver screamed with laughter. “You sound funny, daddy,” he said, holding out his hand for the watch. He spoke into the screen pressing every button until eventually a recorded version of his voice came back at him, this time sounding like he’d sucked on a helium balloon. This caused him to collapse into peels of laughter and Abby had enough time to get up, make her and Marcus a hot drink and return before he’d calmed down enough to open another present.

“I’ll email Raven later to thank her,” said Abby.

“I’m not sure thanks is the appropriate word,” grimaced Marcus.

“Old grump,” said Abby, leaning in and kissing his nose.

The next present contained a pyjama set with Mickey Mouse printed on it that was big enough for a ten-year-old. “That HAS to be from my mother,” said Abby. She found the label still attached to the paper. “Yep.”

“I’m amazed she remembered this year,” said Marcus, holding the pyjamas up against Oliver. “I don’t think he’ll ever be big enough to wear these.”

“I’ll put them away for when he’s twenty.” Abby laughed as she folded the pyjamas and tucked the label in so she’d remember where they came from in the future.

“If he inherits your height, they’ll last him the rest of his life,” said Marcus, dodging Abby’s closed fist as it came towards him.

“You’ll regret that remark.”

Oliver made short work of the presents Abby and Marcus had bought him, pronouncing himself delighted with the LEGO fire station and indifferent to the socks and underpants Abby had wrapped up for him.

“Why do you always wrap things like that?” said Marcus as he picked up the remnants of paper and put them into the recycling bag.

“It makes the present opening last longer. You never usually mind.”

“I don’t mind, it just makes me laugh. Although, I’d rather be opening your underwear,” he said with a whisper.

“Is that it, mummy and daddy?” said Oliver, trying not to look disappointed that they’d got him a LEGO set and boring underpants.

“Do you think that’s it?” said Marcus, teasing him.

Oliver shrugged; his eyes hopeful as he looked from Marcus to Abby.

“Maybe the birthday fairy you don’t believe in has left you something. I’ll just go and look. Stay with mummy.” Marcus opened the patio door and disappeared onto the deck.

“What is it?” said Oliver to Abby, shuffling from foot to foot in anticipation.

“What do you hope it is?”

“A dinosaur!”

“Hmm, well I’m not sure even daddy could find one of those, but I think it’s just as exciting.”

Marcus appeared a moment later carrying a large object with a big yellow bow on it.

“A bike!” yelled Oliver, and he ran towards Marcus who set the bike on the floor. “It’s red like a fire engine, I love red,” he said, swinging his leg over the frame.

“You can’t ride it in here,” said Marcus.

“Aww!”

“We’ll go out into the front garden.”

“Yay!” Oliver ran towards the front door.

“Put some shoes on!” shouted Abby and she padded after Oliver, slipping his trainers on then pulling on her boots and tucking her pyjama bottoms into them. Marcus slipped his boat shoes on and they went out into the garden, all three still in their sleepwear.

Marcus handed the camera to Abby. “Take some film, will you?” he said, and Abby started recording as he helped Oliver onto the bike.

“Your first proper bike, Ollie,” said Abby as they set off around the path, Oliver wobbling but the stabilisers keeping him upright. Marcus had one hand on the saddle of the bike and the other on the handlebar, helping Oliver steer around the corners.

There was nothing but squeals and cries from Oliver as they went round and round. His small legs soon got used to the pedals and Marcus was virtually running to keep up with him.

“I don’t think he’ll need the stabilisers for long,” he puffed to Abby as he passed in front of the camera.

“That’s my boy!”

Marcus stayed with him one last round and then let him go. He stood back and watched as he veered around the paths, legs pumping furiously, his face determined. Abby moved towards her husband, slipped her hand into his. He looked down at her with tears in his eyes and that made Abby tear up as well.

“Don’t,” she said.

“Our baby,” said Marcus and he put his arm around Abby and held her tight.

“He’ll always be our baby.”

“Yeah.” Marcus pressed a kiss to Abby’s head. “Best thing I ever did was meet you.”

Tears flowed down Abby’s face at his words, tears of joy and love tinged with sadness and regret at the speed with which the years passed. “He’ll be wanting a Ferrari next,” she said to lighten the mood, and Marcus laughed even as his own tears dripped into her hair.

“He’ll have to earn that,” he said.

“I wonder what he’ll be when he’s older?”

“Happy, I hope. That’s all I want.”

“Yeah.” She reached up and kissed Marcus full on the lips and then there was a crunching sound of gravel and she looked down to see Oliver stopped at their feet.

“What’s for breakfast?” he said.

\---

Oliver rode into the holiday park at three o’clock with an out of breath and red-faced Marcus running behind. Abby was waiting for them having received a text from Marcus letting her know they were on their way.

“He insisted on riding here,” puffed Marcus, who was bent over, his hands on his knees catching his breath.

“You’ll have to take up running if you’re to keep up with him from now on.”

Marcus rolled his eyes. “God help me.”

Oliver got off his bike and stood impatiently while Marcus took off his helmet, gloves, knee pads and elbow pads.

“Are you sure he’s protected enough?” said Abby with a smile.

“I’d have him in bubble wrap if he’d let me.”

“Happy birthday, little dude!” Murphy came out of his caravan and stood looking admiringly at Oliver and his bike. “That’s a cool bike, kid.”

“My mummy and daddy got it me. It has gears,” Oliver said, showing Murphy the various parts of the bike.

Marcus took Abby to one side while Oliver was occupied. “I had an annoying Skype call with Caroline this morning,” he said, and Abby’s blood ran cold at the mention of his ex-wife.

“What did she want?”

“She was gleefully informing me that she’s found a major problem with the construction company I’ve hired to build the community centre. I don’t know how bad it really is or if she’s exaggerating as usual.”

“What are you going to do about it?” Abby had a bad feeling about where this conversation was going.

Marcus pulled various faces before finally telling her what she knew he was going to say. “I’m going to have to go to Lancaster to sort it out.”

“No, Marcus! Can’t you do it from here? This is what she wants, to have you running to her.”

“I can’t do it from here. She’s manipulating everyone in my absence. I need to be on the ground and talking to these people face to face.”

Abby sighed. “When are you going to go?”

“Tomorrow. I’ll only be gone a couple of days.”

“Two days? You’re going to stay overnight?”

“I can only arrange one of the meetings for the Friday. I’ll come straight back after that.”

“We haven’t spent a night apart in six years, Marcus.” The thought of him not lying next to her, not having the comforting warmth of him to press up against was upsetting.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He took her in his arms and held her tight. “There’s no other way.” He kissed her hair and then her lips, and she held the back of his head to pull him closer.

“Get a room you two, Jeez.” Murphy’s voice made them pull apart. He was standing with Oliver watching them.

“They’re always doing that,” said Oliver matter-of-factly.

“Gross,” said Murphy, screwing up his face.

“It’s not gross when two people express their love for each other, Oliver,” said Marcus with a glare at Murphy.

“It is when they’re ancient like you two.”

“John,” said Abby giving him a warning look.

“Fine. When are we getting this party started, anyway?”

“How about now!” said Marcus, and he picked Oliver up and swung him around.

“What are we doing, daddy?” screamed Oliver in delight.

“I think Murphy has a surprise for you.”

“I do, wee man, but you’ll have to go to the Mess to find out what it is.”

Oliver ran ahead to the dining room with Murphy running after him.

“I don’t want to leave you both,” said Marcus as he took Abby’s hand.

“I know. It has to be done.” She squeezed his hand then they hurried to catch up with their son.

In the Mess Abby’s students were waiting along with Charmaine. They’d helped Abby decorate the room with balloons and paper chains. Oliver ducked behind Abby’s leg when they all congratulated him, only coming out when Clarke stepped forward.

“How would you like to go on a dinosaur hunt?” she said.

Oliver’s eyes became wide as saucers. “Really?”

“Yep. We’ve all made dinosaurs like this one.” She showed him a carboard model of a t-rex she’d painted earlier that was nearly as tall as Oliver. “And Murph has hidden them around the holiday park.”

“Your job is to find them,” said Murphy. “There are eight to find, and you can’t have any jelly or ice cream until you’ve found them all!”

“I can find them all!” Oliver headed for the door but Murphy put out his hand to stop him. “Hold on there, dude. You’re not running around by yourself. Clarke and Octavia will go with you.”

“Cool!” said Oliver and then he was off out of the door with the girls in hot pursuit.

“Take some pictures!” shouted Abby and Clarke waved her hand in the air to show she’d heard.

“We should follow him,” said Marcus.

“Let him have some fun with the girls first. We’ll go out in a few minutes.”

Abby went to talk to Sinclair while Marcus talked to Indra, but she could see out of the corner of her eye he was restless. She gave it five minutes then grabbed him and they went out to watch Oliver running around the park, yelling his excitement every time he found a dinosaur.

“This was so good of you all,” Marcus said to Indra who was watching with them.

“It was helpful trying something new.”

“Have there been any further incidents with Charmaine or that McCreary fella?”

“He hasn’t been back that I know of, but there’s something up with her.”

“Like what?”

“She disappears a lot, and yesterday I caught her near Echo’s caravan. It looked as though she had just come out of it. They are not friends, so I thought it odd.”

“Did you say anything to her?”

“Of course. She said she was looking for Echo. When I questioned Echo later she said she didn’t know why Diyoza would be looking for her.”

“Hmmm. Listen, I have to go away for a couple of days. Keep an eye on things here will you? I don’t like the idea of leaving Abby as it is, but especially not with that guy hanging around.”

Marcus had lowered his voice when he said this, but Abby still heard him. She was tempted to protest that she could look after herself but thought better of it. If it made him feel happier about leaving her to have Indra on guard then so be it.

“Mummy, daddy I’ve found them all!” Oliver came marching up to them out of breath from all his exercise. Clarke, Octavia and Murphy weren’t far behind, laden down with cardboard dinosaurs.

“Well done, squirrel!”

“You’re so clever, sweetheart.”  

“There was a dinosaur egg with every one,” he said, holding up a foil-covered chocolate egg.

“You’d better save them and see if they hatch,” said Marcus.

“I will!”

“I think you’ve earned your jelly and ice cream.” Marcus took Oliver’s hand and Abby took the other and they walked towards the Mess, swinging him between them.

Inside, Sinclair and the others had prepared the party food and it was all laid out on the table which was covered with a dinosaur-themed cloth.

“I take it your son loves dinosaurs,” laughed Sinclair as Oliver whooped with pleasure.

“That and Fireman Sam, yes. It was a toss-up which to do but I think the dinosaurs win out with him. He adores them. You’ve done a wonderful job, thank you.” Abby gave Sinclair a soft kiss on his cheek, which made him blush.

Marcus stood at the head of the table and banged a spoon on a cup to get everyone’s attention.

“I just want to thank you all for everything you’ve done for Oliver’s birthday today. The dinosaur hunt was fantastic, and the food looks great. Thanks to Murphy for organising it and to you all for your time and creativity. Abby and I are really grateful. I’m not one for speeches so I’ll just say, happy fifth birthday to my beautiful son, Oliver. I love you so much, squirrel. You bring me and mummy so much joy and happiness.”

They sang happy birthday to Oliver who had got over his earlier shyness and basked in the limelight, singing the song to himself.

“Okay, everyone, tuck in!” Marcus put his arm around Abby and watched as Oliver piled his plate high with party food. “He loves his food,” he said.

“He’s like you.”

“Yeah.” He sighed.

“Don’t get morbid again,” said Abby, who was still fighting back tears that had formed during Marcus’s speech.

“Do you remember when he was born?” said Marcus.

“No,” said Abby, chuckling. “Of course I do.”

“He was so tiny. I couldn’t believe how small he was. His head fit in my hand.”

“He didn’t feel small coming out of me,” said Abby, wincing at the memory.

“No. I was over eight pounds when I was born, you know, so be grateful he was only six.”

“It’s something I’m grateful for every day.” Abby nudged Marcus and he jostled her back. “All that hair he had.”

“Yeah. I kept thinking he would go bald eventually but he never did.”

“He has strong hair genes.”

Marcus laughed. “The Kanes have always had good hair.”

“So have the Griffins, apart from my uncle Seamus, but there were rumours about his paternity...”

“You’re on top form today,” said Marcus laughing again.

“I just don’t want to feel sad on our son’s birthday.”

“No, I know I’m a pain. It’s just sometimes I don’t think my heart can contain the love I feel for him and you.”

“I know. It’s almost painful sometimes.”

“Yes.” Marcus kissed her head. “Okay, let’s get some food before our son eats everything in sight.”

\---

Later that night with Oliver fast asleep in bed, Marcus cleaned his bike while Abby sorted out all the gifts Oliver had received that afternoon.

“This is cute,” she said, holding up a bracelet woven from leather strands with Oliver stamped into it.

“I think that’s from Clarke,” said Marcus glancing at it.

“How sweet.”

“Have you seen what Murphy got him?”

“No.”

Marcus wiped his hands on a cloth and rummaged through the gifts. “This,” he said, holding up a blue plastic water pistol.

“Ah,” said Abby. “I take it you don’t like it.”

“I don’t want our son near any kind of gun.”

“It’s just a toy, Marcus.”

“It sends the wrong message.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll hide it and hopefully he’ll have forgotten about it by tomorrow.” Abby went into the kitchen ostensibly to hide the toy but in reality she filled it with water and returned to the living room with it hidden behind her back. Marcus was tidying his cleaning equipment away.

“Marcus?” she said, and he looked up at her.

“Yes?”

Abby squirted the water pistol at him, careful to keep away from his eyes.

“What the hell?” He was shocked for a moment, then he realised what she’d done.

“You minx!” he said, and he reached for her. Abby ran away, shooting the pistol at him and he chased her around the room before eventually catching up with her. They fell to the floor, wrestling for the pistol.

Marcus grabbed it from her, shot the water at her.

“Urgh!” said Abby as water hit her chest and dripped down her blouse.

Marcus straddled her and kept shooting, emptying the water all over her chest. “Gotcha!”

“Oh, I see what you’re doing,” said Abby as she looked down at her blouse which had now become see-through.

“You started it,” he said, and then he buried his head between her breasts and licked the water droplets off her chest.

“Oh,” groaned Abby.

“Mmmm,” replied Marcus as his fingers undid her blouse and pulled her bra down. He wrapped his lips around her wet nipples and sucked them in turn.

“This wasn’t in my plan,” said Abby as she felt between them, stroking the outline of his cock which was already hard.

“It is now. Get your things off,” Marcus said urgently. He manoeuvred so he could get his pants and underwear down and Abby took off her knickers, suddenly desperate to have him inside her.

Marcus pushed up her skirt and Abby grabbed his cock, guiding him inside. “Oh, God. Oh, God,” she said as he drove into the hilt. She wrapped her legs around him, her heels digging into his back as he thrust. They rocked together, moaning, trying to be quiet because Oliver was only just asleep and they hadn’t put the toddler gate on the stairs. Knowing they had to be quick just in case gave them a sense of urgency, and Abby could feel her insides liquifying as Marcus hit the right spot again and again.

He lifted her legs, bent her knees so her ass was off the ground and drove into her.

“Fuck!” cried Abby, and Marcus grunted with the effort of sustaining his rhythm. Abby’s climax exploded inside her and Marcus followed straight away.

“God!” he said, collapsing on top of her.

“Where did that come from?” said Abby, her head still fuzzy and buzzing with heat.

“Out of nowhere.” Marcus rolled off her and lay on his back, panting.

Abby glanced at the clock. The whole encounter had lasted less than ten minutes. “I think we set a record!” she said.

“Good, though.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“That will sustain us while we’re apart tomorrow,” said Marcus, gathering up his clothes.

“Don’t talk about that,” said Abby as she pulled on her knickers, rearranged her bra.

“Sorry.” Marcus headed to the bathroom and when he returned Abby had wiped the water from all the surfaces they had hit during their fight.

“Let’s have a drink on the deck, celebrate our son’s birth. It’s nearly the exact time,” said Marcus looking at his watch.

“Eight fifteen on the ninth of August,” said Abby as she fixed them both a gin and tonic and handed one to Marcus.

“Second best day of my life,” he said, and they settled on their sun loungers.

Abby clinked her glass against his. She knew what the best day was. The day she’d entered the visitor’s room at the prison and he was standing there all stiff and proper, looking down his nose at her. “You’re not needed here,” he’d said. She looked across to him. He was lying back, his eyes closed, a smile on his face.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you too,” he mumbled.


	12. Separation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus goes to Lancaster and Abby deals with visitors to the holiday camp.

With Marcus in Lancaster and Oliver under the watchful eye of Alice, Abby tried to concentrate on her classes. There was only one more week after this and most of the students still had a lot of work to do to be ready for the exhibition the following Friday. She walked back and forth amongst them, offering guidance and feedback. Echo’s sculpture of Bellamy now had the beginnings of an appendage and Abby was unsure at what point to step in. She didn’t believe in censoring art or an artist’s creativity; on the other hand, they had a sixteen-year-old who was the sister of the subject and a five-year-old who would also be at the exhibition. Not that Oliver hadn’t seen Marcus naked plenty of times, but still, this was different. She’d have to wait and see how the likeness progressed.

Her phone vibrated as she did her rounds and she looked at it in case it was Marcus. It was the detective, Pike.

“I need to take this,” she said to Murphy. “Can you keep an eye on everybody.”

Abby went outside and answered the call, sitting at the picnic table to talk.

“Mrs Kane, it’s Detective Sergeant Pike here.”

“Hello, detective. How are you today?”

“I’m fine. I tried to get your husband but he wasn’t answering his phone.”

“He’s probably in a meeting. You can talk to me if it’s about the treasure we found.” She could picture Pike grimacing at the thought of speaking to her. Stupid man.

“I don’t have much of an update on the stolen items. I don’t think they have entered the resale market, so I suppose the thieves are still lying low, although if they’ve been sold privately or stolen to order we’ll never know.”

“Okay.”

“I was calling to inform you that I have located Ms Griffin’s boyfriend.”

“Oh, that’s great.”

“Hmm. We can rule him out with regards to the break-in at the holiday park. He says he was in London at the time and I have found witnesses to back up that statement.”

“Oh, okay.” Abby wasn’t surprised because she’d never really believed it had been him, but on the other hand it would have been a relief to know it was something as simple as that. Now they were back at square one with no suspects. “Thank you for looking into it for me. Clarke will be relieved.”

“It’s fine,” Pike said, in a tone that suggested it had been a major inconvenience having to pander to a woman’s whim.

“I appreciate it,” Abby said, determined to stay polite.

“That’s all I have for you, Mrs Kane. I’ll be in touch if I hear anything else but don’t expect to hear from me any time soon.”

“Thank you for your time.”

Abby ended the call and sat for a moment thinking. Who would come to their holiday park, rifle through all the caravans but not steal anything? It could have been kids on some kind of dare she supposed, but they’d never had trouble with anything like that in this area before. Maybe they were looking for something specific like valuables that nobody here had. None of her students had much money, and some of them couldn’t even afford a cell phone. Would-be thieves wouldn’t find much here. She returned to the classroom and updated Clarke when she got the opportunity.

At lunchtime her phone rang again, and it was Marcus.

“Hi,” he said, his voice soft in her ear.

“Hi.” Abby smiled on hearing him. She turned away because Murphy was staring at her with a mischievous look on his face. “I’m missing you already.”

“I’m missing you too. How’s my boy?”

“He’s fine. He missed you too at breakfast.”

“I know. I’m sorry I had to leave so early; I wanted to avoid the traffic.”

“It’s fine. He understands. How are things there?”

Marcus’s sigh was loud. “Not as bad as I thought. Caroline’s making a mountain out of a molehill. There are a few irregularities with the contractor but it’s nothing my meeting with them tomorrow won’t sort out.”

“I told you it was an excuse to get you down there.”

“I can’t think why.”

God, he was dense sometimes. “Because she likes to mess with us at every opportunity. You’ll have made her year running back there because she called you.”

“Aye, probably. Is everything okay up there? No problems?”

“You’ve only been gone a few hours.” Abby smiled into the phone. “Everything’s fine.”

“I know, it’s just, with that guy hanging around.”

“There’s been no sign of him, and Charmaine is lying in her caravan. She’s so big now she can barely get up.”

“She’d better not have that baby in our holiday park or else we’ll be taking care of that too!” Marcus said in an exasperated tone.

“We’re closing in a week so she’ll have to find somewhere else.”

“I’m making it my top priority when I get back.”

“Your top priority?” said Abby suggestively.

“After I’ve kissed my beautiful son,” Marcus said, a laugh in his voice.

“And?”

“And cleaned the car and checked the house is up to standard.”

“And?”

“And, hmmm, what else?”

“You bastard.”

Marcus laughed. “And put my arms around my wife and kissed her until she’s breathless,” he said his voice low and whispering.

“That’s better,” Abby said.

“You’ll always be number one,” he said, and Abby was flooded with warmth.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you too. I’ll skype you both at dinner time.”

“We’ll be waiting.”

Abby ended the call and when she turned Murphy made a lewd gesture at her. She stuck two fingers up at him and he laughed.

Half an hour later and they were about to go back to the classroom when Abby saw two figures approaching. When they got closer, she saw it was McCreary and another man she hadn’t seen before. Her heartrate picked up.

“Take the students inside, John,” she said to Murphy.

“What? No way. I’m not leaving you out here with him.”

“I don’t want any trouble.”

“I’ll only be trouble if he is.”

“I mean it.”

Someone appeared by Abby’s side and it was Indra. “I’ll take care of this,” she said, and she started to step forward.

Abby put her hand on her arm, held her back. “I’ll speak to him. Just hold back for now.” She turned and saw that the entire class was lined up behind her.

McCreary swaggered up. “A welcoming party. How kind.”

“What can I do for you Mr McCreary?” Abby stepped forward and McCreary came right up to her, invading what most people would consider their personal space. Abby didn’t flinch, held herself still. She looked him straight in the eye.

“Just out for a stroll,” he said, his eyes roaming the students and the rest of the camp.

“I told you I’d contact you if Charmaine wanted to see you.”

“You did, yes, but you see it’s really nothing to do with you when I see that bitch.” He leaned towards her and Abby could sense Murphy and Indra tense up.

“You’re on my property. It has everything to do with me.” McCreary was grubby up close, dirt streaked. He stank of sweat and motor oil. He chewed on a wooden toothpick while he stared at her.

“Diyoza is MY property, and you’re holding her here against her will.”

“I am NOT!” said Abby indignantly. “She chooses to stay here rather than be with you and I can’t say I blame her.”

McCreary chewed on his toothpick and leaned in so his face was only inches from Abby’s. He stayed like that for a moment, and Abby remained still and upright. She wasn’t going to be cowed by him no matter how much he tried to intimidate her. After a couple of seconds he laughed, his breath hot and sour as it swept Abby’s face.

“You’re ballsy, I’ll give you that.” He looked around again. “Where’s yer husband?” he sniffed. “How’s his nose?” He turned to his companion and they both laughed.

“Why are you here?” said Abby, anxious to get rid of this obnoxious man and his friend.

“Like I said, just out for a stroll. We’re enjoying the Scottish air, aren’t we, Kodiak?”

Kodiak? What the hell kind of name was that? The man named Kodiak nodded and stared at Abby too. He was big and lumbering, like a bear, with long hair and an even longer beard. McCreary had a beard too, and a furry moustache. He looked like he belonged on a TV show Abby had watched a few years back, Sons of Anarchy, about a criminal motorcycle gang. She hoped he wasn’t as ruthless as those guys were.

“So you and your husband own this do you?” he said, gesturing to the camp. “Must cost a bit.”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I knew you’d say that.” He turned to Kodiak again. “I knew she’d say that, didn’t you?”

“I did,” growled the bear.

“Predictable. You disappoint me.”

“I think it’s time you left,” said Indra stepping forward. She was taller than McCreary and the bear man and she drew herself up to her full height and glowered at him. Abby would have been intimidated if she’d been McCreary, but he wasn’t moved.

“Call your dog off,” he said, looking at Abby.

Abby returned his stare but said nothing. She was trying to think what to do. He was trying to intimidate them, but he hadn’t shown any desire to do anything more than that, not yet. She figured she’d wait and see if he would get bored and leave of his own accord before she escalated the situation by threatening him with the police.

“Well, I think we’ve gone far enough for today, don’t you, Kodiak?”

“Don’t want to go too far,” the man said.

“Not right away,” said McCreary. “Have to save energy.” He smirked at Abby as he said this, and then he turned to leave. “I think we’ll come this way again,” he said to Kodiak as they started walking. “It’s been very enjoyable.”

Murphy and Indra followed McCreary and Kodiak to make sure they were off the premises. Abby stayed where she was. Her heart was thumping, and she had to wipe her hands on her jeans they were so sweaty. She felt an arm go around her and she turned to see Clarke smiling at her.

“You were fantastic,” she said.

Abby stroked her hand. “Thanks. I don’t know what he wants, but I don’t think we’ve seen the back of him.”

Indra returned, glowering. “I don’t like that man,” she said.

“No. Thank you for your help.”

“I promised Kane I’d look after things here,” she said her dark eyes unreadable.

Kane? Since when did she call Marcus that? Abby supposed it was better than her calling him Marcus which seemed a bit too familiar, but she still felt uneasy with their relationship. “I appreciate that,” Abby said, not wanting to cause further trouble by seeming ungrateful.

“He won’t be happy to hear about this,” Indra said.

“No, and that’s why we won’t tell him.”

Indra frowned. “We must.”

“No. He has enough on his plate, and I don’t want him rushing back up from Lancaster when there’s no need. McCreary is just having his fun that’s all. We’ve dealt with the situation and Marcus will be back tomorrow.

“You’re making a mistake.” Indra headed towards the classroom before Abby could answer.

Yes, well it’s my mistake to make, Abby whispered after her.

\---

Abby was preparing dinner when the video call from Marcus came in. She sat with Oliver on her knee and they answered it.

Marcus beamed at them when he saw them.

“Hello to my beautiful family!”

“Hi daddy! You look funny.” Oliver had never spoken to his father over video call as they’d never been apart longer than a few hours.

“Do I?”

“Yes your head is big.”

Abby laughed. “I’m always telling daddy that.”

“What have you been doing today?” said Marcus.

“Grammy Alice was here and we played with Bun Bun.”

“All day?”

“Mostly and I beat her at snakes and ladders.”

“Did you beat her, or did you cheat?”

Oliver put his hands on his hips and pouted. “I did not cheat, daddy!” he said outraged.

Marcus laughed. “I’ll believe you.”

“When are you coming back, daddy?”

“Tomorrow, squirrel. I’m missing you.”

“I miss you. Bun Bun misses you too.”

“Give him a cuddle from me.”

“I’m going to do that now.” Oliver wriggled on Abby’s knee and tried to get down.

“Hang on, young man. Say goodnight to daddy properly.”

“Night, daddy,” he said, blowing him a kiss.

“Night squirrel. Be good for mummy. I love you.”

“Love you.” Abby let Oliver get down and he was off out into the garden.

“That bloody rabbit,” said Marcus, smiling.

“It’s been good for him.”

“Yes, I know. So, how was your day?”

“It was fine,” said Abby, forcing the lie out. She told him about the students’ work and Echo’s sculpture to distract him from any direct questions.

“Well, my day improved after I spoke with you,” Marcus said. “I’ve pretty much sorted out all the problems with the community centre. There’s only the contractor to see tomorrow and then I’ll be home. I hope to be there around four at the latest.”

“That will be great. I’m glad it’s worked out.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t have done it from up there, though.”

“I know,” said Abby to assuage his guilt at leaving them. “You did the right thing.”

“I’m going to miss you tonight,” said Marcus with a sigh.

“Me too. It already feels strange not having you in the house for dinner. I don’t know what it will be like being in the bed alone.”

“The house feels so big and empty without you both,” said Marcus, and he panned the laptop around so Abby could see their Lancaster home.

“Aww, I miss our house too,” she said.

“I’ll be thinking about you,” Marcus said and he raised both his eyebrows.

“Oh, will you? In what way?” Abby looked around to make sure Oliver wasn’t in ear shot.

“When I get in bed alone I suppose it will make me think about the first time you stayed here.”

“You remember that, do you?”

“Of course, don’t you?”

“What do you think?” Abby smiled at him. She wanted so badly to touch him, to kiss him. It was hard being separated by the computer screen and two hundred miles.

“I believe I left you unable to speak,” he said with a satisfied grin.

“I don’t remember that part,” she said, teasing him.

“That’s because I’d blown your mind.”

“Big head,” she said, laughing softly.

“I remember everything about that weekend,” said Marcus, more seriously.

“Me too. I was the first in your house, in your bed.”

“The only one.”

Abby touched the screen, she couldn’t help herself, and Marcus brought his hand up to touch hers. “Don’t go away again,” she said.

“Never.”

Oliver ran in and clambered back up on Abby’s knee. He put his face to the computer screen and stuck his tongue out.

“Oliver!” said Marcus and Abby in unison.

“I’m hungry,” he said.

Abby laughed. “Okay, I suppose I’d better go and feed our son before he eats the laptop.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep tight you two.”

“Night daddy.” Oliver jumped off Abby’s knee before Marcus could respond.

“Night, Abby. I’ll call you in the morning.”

“Night. Love you.”

“Love you.”

She blew him a kiss then shut the laptop down with a sigh. She felt guilty for not telling him about McCreary when they’d said they would tell each other everything, but he would have driven back up all agitated and there was nothing he could do. They didn’t even know where McCreary lived; Charmaine had refused to divulge her previous address and Abby’s rudimentary search of the internet had yielded no results.

She’d tell Marcus tomorrow when he was safely home. He wouldn’t be happy, but she’d just have to deal with it.

“Let’s get ready for dinner,” she said to Oliver, and she grabbed his hand so she could wash him and get him into his pyjamas before they ate.


	13. Out of Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby has an encounter. Marcus returns, and something's not right.

The day Marcus was due home was the warmest they’d had all summer. It reminded Abby of California, and she’d chosen a white sundress with red poppies on it to wear to work, even though it was impractical for painting and she’d already got a few spots of paint on it. It was watercolour, so it would wash out. It made her happy to be wearing something sunny and fresh, and with any luck Marcus would be at the house when she got home and he’d enjoy seeing her in it, and maybe taking her out of it later, if Oliver slept properly. He’d be excited to see his daddy, so she was expecting a late, disturbed night.

After an uneventful day at the holiday park she walked down the lane, running her fingers through the wildflowers that were spilling off the verge. August now, and many of their heads were drooping with fat seeds. The fluff of willowherbs floated through the air on their tiny parachutes. It was the kind of warm the British endlessly complained about, like they did every kind of weather, but Abby was in her element. When she got home, she would ask Marcus to blow up the paddling pool, fill it with water then they could all splash around in it. Oliver would love that. She smiled at the thought. 

She rounded the corner and looked ahead. She was close to the house now; just one long stretch and then a final corner. Ahead of her two figures emerged, walking on the same side of the lane as her. She didn’t think anything of it at first, and then as the distance closed between them she got a funny feeling in her stomach. One of them was tall and slim and the other shorter and bulky, like a bear. Oh, God. It was McCreary and his oaf Kodiak. What were they doing here? Was it deliberate? Abby looked around, searching for possible escape routes, but there was nothing but rocky scrub and tussocky ankle-breaking grass between her and the loch. She continued walking; her head held high.

“Mrs Kane,” said McCreary as they finally met. “What a coincidence.”

“Is it?” replied Abby. “Or did you know I’d be here?”

McCreary laughed. “You have a high opinion of yourself if you think I spend my time wondering where you are and what you’re doing. We’re merely taking a walk, aren’t we Kodiak?”

“That’s right. Taking a walk.”

“Well, I hope you enjoy it,” said Abby, moving to go past them, but McCreary blocked her way, a smile on his face.

“There’s no need to rush off,” he said.

His smile was broad, but his eyes were dark, mean-looking. Abby got a rush of adrenaline, making her palms sweaty and her heart race. What was the best thing to do? Play along for now. “I have somewhere to be,” she said.

“Ah. Are you going home? Do you live near here?”

Abby thought there was no point lying. He probably knew everything about her despite what he had said. “I do. My husband is expecting me.”

“You look very pretty,” said McCreary, looking her up and down, lingering on her breasts, her legs. “Doesn’t she?” he said to Kodiak.

Kodiak grunted, shrugged his shoulders. “Not my type.”

“No. He prefers his women with more meat on them. Likes ‘em hefty. I on the other hand like what I see.” He stepped closer, reached out towards her breast. Abby slapped his hand away, and he grabbed her arm, pulled her towards him. “Now, now.”

“I’ll fight you,” she said, because as scared as she was right now, and as much as the thought of never seeing Marcus or Oliver again was turning her insides to jelly, she wasn’t going to give this guy power over her. If she was going, she’d try her damnedest to take him with her.

“That would only turn me on more.” He put his other hand on the front of his pants, but Abby didn’t look down to see if he was turned on. He wanted her to look, so she kept staring into his eyes instead.

Surely he wasn’t going to do anything to her? Not here, not now. Things like this didn’t happen on beautiful summer days beside a Scottish loch, but they did, she knew that. They happened anywhere, anytime, to anyone.

“I’d bite it off,” she said, looking at him defiantly.

“It would be the last thing you did.”

“Then so be it.”

McCreary guffawed. “You’d leave your husband a widower and your child motherless just to avoid a roll in the hay? I don’t believe you.”

“I wouldn’t be able to live with myself afterwards anyway, so yes. I would.”

McCreary huffed a laugh. “I knew you’d be like this. It’s very entertaining. I like you. I really do.” He let go of her arm, and Abby stepped away from him. “Lovely as you are, I only have eyes for one woman. The one you’re keeping from me. Give her back, and all of this goes away.”

He turned to Kodiak. “Let’s go.” They brushed past Abby and headed towards the holiday park. “Have a great weekend, Abby,” said McCreary without looking back at her. She heard Kodiak snigger. She stood rooted to the spot while they disappeared into the distance, then took out her phone, made a call.

“Hi, it’s me,” she said.

“Missing me already?” replied Murphy.

“I just had an encounter with McCreary and his sidekick.”

“You okay?” Murphy’s voice changed from sarcastic to concerned.

“Yes, I’m fine. I wanted to warn you, because he’s heading in the direction of the park. I don’t know if he’ll go there, but you should be ready just in case.”

“Okay. We’re prepping dinner. I’ll put Indra on guard. She won’t let him through.”

“Be careful, John.”

“We’ll be fine.”

“Text me if he comes, or if he doesn’t come. Let me know.”

“I will. I will. Are you going to tell Kane about this?”

Abby sighed. She had no choice now. “Yes, but later. Text me!”

“I said I would. Go hug that ridiculous man you insist on being in love with. We’ll be fine.”

“Thanks, John. Bye.”

Abby ended the call. She took a deep breath then carried on walking, plastering a smile to her face as she approached her home. She would talk to Marcus, but not now. She’d let him enjoy Oliver first, then make her confession.

She opened the door to the sound of screaming, and her heart started racing again. She rushed through the house towards the sound and burst out into the garden. Marcus was dangling Oliver upside down, threatening to dunk him headfirst in the paddling pool, which he’d filled with water. They were both in their swim trunks, golden brown bodies shining in the sun. Abby felt a surge of love and fear that overwhelmed her. She never wanted to lose them. What would she do? How would she live? How would they if they lost her? Goddamn McCreary.

Marcus swung Oliver round and saw Abby, a big smile spreading across his face. “Mummy’s home!” he said. He put Oliver down and they both hurried towards her.

“Hi, mummy!” said Oliver, and she picked him up, held him tight.

“Hi, mummy,” said Marcus, smirking. He kissed her lips, enveloped her and Oliver in a hug. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

“Daddy’s filled the pool!” said Oliver excitedly.

“I can see that. I was going to suggest it,” she said to Marcus.

“Great minds,” he said, kissing her again. “Now get in your costume, mummy!”

“Okay.” Abby left them in the sunshine and went to her room. She had a shower first, because she felt dirty after her encounter with McCreary. A text from Murphy came through while she was drying herself off and she stood naked in the bedroom while she read it.

 _No sign of trouble. Everything’s okay,_ he said.

 _Good. Hope it stays that way x_ she replied.

She put on her costume and went back downstairs.

Marcus and Oliver were sitting in the pool and when Abby was a couple of feet away from them Marcus shouted “now!” and they splashed water at Abby, soaking her from head to foot. Oliver whooped with delight.

“You’re going to pay for that!” she shouted and jumped into the pool so they were all covered in water.

\---

Later that night they were lying on their sun loungers out on the deck having finally put an over-excited Oliver to bed. They were both still in their costumes because the evening was warm and humid and there was no one to see them, so no point changing, which Abby was glad about, because a bare-chested Marcus was always a glorious sight.

“Oliver was so happy to see me,” said Marcus proudly.

“He loves you so much.”

“Yes,” he said, turning to look at Abby with a soft smile on his face. He reached out towards her and she took his hand, holding it across the narrow divide between them.

She should tell him now, about McCreary, but he was so happy, and they’d had such a lovely evening she didn’t want to spoil it.

“I thought I might give Ollie the choice of what we do tomorrow, as a treat for being good while I was away,” said Marcus.

“That could be trouble. We’ll end up hunting dinosaurs or trying to find the real-life Fireman Sam.”

Marcus laughed. “Remember when we had to drive around every fire station in Lancaster looking for the right engine?”

“That’s what I’m talking about!”

“He was only three then.”

“Yes, and his obsession has only gotten deeper.”

“At least he’s out of that onesie now.”

“Small mercies.” They smiled at each other.

“So,” said Marcus, raising his eyebrow at Abby. “How much did you miss me?”

“You were only gone one night.”

“Yes, but you were lonely, missed my touch, right?” He shuffled his sun lounger so it was butting up against hers.

“I missed you making my breakfast this morning.” Abby knew what he was getting at, but she liked to tease him, and he liked to be teased.

“What did you have?”

“Crumpets.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, with the butter oozing out of the holes. I got it all over everywhere.” Abby made her voice as low and seductive as she could.

“Everywhere?”

“Yes. All over my fingers, my lips. Some of it dripped down my top.”

Marcus’s eyes darkened. He licked his lips involuntarily. “Do you think there might still be traces?”

“There might be.”

“Hmm. Maybe I’d better see if I can find them, clean you up.”

He lifted her hand to his lips and sucked her fingers into his mouth. Desire pooled in Abby’s belly. Long may what they had between them never get old. Marcus licked each finger, pressed kisses to her palms. “Where else?” he whispered.

“My lips.”

He pulled her towards him, pressed soft kisses to her lips, the tip of his tongue flicking out, tasting her. “Very nice,” he said, then he rolled on top of her. Abby could feel his hard length against her belly. “Did you say it dripped down your top?” he said.

“Yes,” she sighed, and he eased the straps of her costume down. He kissed the swell of her breasts, peeled her top down to expose them fully, licked his way to her nipples, circling them in turn, sucking them into his mouth. “Ah, God,” said Abby. “Oh, that’s good.”

She adjusted her position so his cock fell between her thighs, nudging at her through his shorts, her costume. She pushed up against it. Marcus groaned, but then he pulled away.

“I haven’t finished my search yet,” he said. He shuffled to the bottom of the sun lounger, trailed kisses up each of Abby’s legs, stopping when he reached her upper thigh.

“This isn’t fair,” said Abby, who was desperate now for his tongue on her sex, was burning for it.

“I have to make sure I haven’t missed anything,” Marcus murmured.

“You’re missing a large part!”

“Such an impatient girl,” he tutted as he finally put his tongue where she wanted it, except on the outside of her costume.

“Take it off!” she said, his words and his tone making her throb.

Instead he pulled the costume to one side, and then finally, finally his tongue was on her, hot and wet.

“Oh, yes,” she moaned as he licked the length of her, a tremor of desire going through her. He held the costume away with one hand, split her lips apart with the other and buried most of his face in her sex. She came with a rush of heat and a loud groan.

Marcus put his hand in his trunks, pulled out his cock from the slot in the front and eased into her without taking her costume off. They both groaned. He put her legs over his shoulder, ground in deeply, angling so he hit where she liked him the most. Warmth started to build again.

“I thought about you last night,” he said as he thrust harder. “When I was alone in our bed.”

“Did you touch yourself?” Abby whispered, a pulse of desire shooting through her, making her clench down on his cock.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Like when I first saw you.”

“What did you do back then?”

“I thought about the way you looked at me.” His words were coming out staccato now as his breaths shortened. “I wanted to take you in the art room, on one of the tables.”

“I wanted you against the wall,” said Abby, her voice low and breathy as another orgasm started to bloom.

“I know. I thought about that too. It made me come. God!” he said as his rhythm slipped, and he started to lose control.

They were thrusting hard against each other now, breathing heavily, lost in their own world. Abby arched her back as she came again, stiffening as a huge orgasm overcame her. Marcus followed, his warmth flooding her.

“Oh, God,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her, turned her on her side so they were facing each other. “It’s never as good as the real thing.”

Abby kissed his nose, his cheeks, rubbed her thumbs over his lips, kissed him there. “I want you so much.”

Marcus was still panting. “Yes,” he breathed. “I want you. I love you.”

Abby closed her eyes for a moment while she savoured the high she was on. Nothing must get in the way of this, of them. Ever. She’d make sure of it.

\---

“We can’t go dinosaur hunting,” said Marcus in an exasperated voice as Oliver stood in front of him, his hands on his hips, a pout on his face.

“You said I could choose!”

“I know, but...” Marcus looked at Abby.

She refrained from saying I told you so, because that wouldn’t help. It was already nine thirty, and if they didn’t leave soon, wherever they ended up would be full and Marcus would be grumpy and it wouldn’t be the fun family day any of them were hoping for. “Ollie, the dinosaurs don’t want to be hunted all the time. They want to rest sometimes. Would you like to be chased every day?”

His grin told her he’d be more than happy to be chased all day long every day. “I would like dinosaurs chasing me.”

“You wouldn’t,” said Marcus.

“I would!”

Marcus sighed.

Abby held her hand towards him to say leave this to me. “I was talking to Saur yesterday.”

“Saur doesn’t talk to you.”

“He does sometimes, when you’re asleep.”

“Really?” Oliver’s eyes grew wide.

“Yes. If he’s bored. Anyway. He told me that all the dinosaurs are having a holiday today, so they aren’t here to be hunted.”

“Oh.” Oliver looked crestfallen and Abby’s heart went out to him.

“What if we go to the water park?” said Marcus. “I’ll take you down the big slide.”

Oliver brightened up instantly. “YES!” he shouted.

“Okay. Let’s go and get your things together.” He rolled his eyes at Abby as he passed her to go upstairs.

Abby packed enough food and drinks for a whole day out. Her costume was in the washer after last night’s escapade with Marcus. She pulled it out, washed it in the sink and stuck it on the table outside in the vain hope that ten minutes of sunshine would dry it enough so she wouldn’t have to put it on wet when they got to the park.

It was a vain hope. She laid it on the dashboard of their car when they set off, much to Marcus’s disapproval.

“It’s your fault,” she said, looking pointedly at him.

“Fine.” He smiled as he turned his attention back to the road.

Abby thought about the previous night as they drove to Coatbridge. Her encounter with McCreary tried to intrude on her more pleasant thoughts, and she pushed him out of her mind. She’d tell Marcus that tonight, when Oliver was in bed.

The water park was a great choice in the end, despite Marcus having to circle the car park five times before they found a space, each rotation getting him more and more annoyed. They were tired but happy when they pulled up outside the house.

“That’s odd,” said Marcus as Abby was getting Oliver out of the car.

“What is?” she said, undoing the belt. Oliver had been asleep most of the way home but now they were back he was wide awake again. He ran towards the front door, stood hopping from leg to leg, impatient to be let in.

“That pot has moved.” Marcus pointed to one of the large silver ornamental pots they had on either side of the door.

“What?” Abby looked at it; it didn’t seem any different to her. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Look.” He pointed at a semi-circular mark on the ground about half a centimetre from the edge of the pot. “That’s where it used to be.”

“How on earth did you notice that?” said Abby as she peered at the mark.

“Do you know me?”

Of course, with Marcus, everything had a place and was always where it should be. If anyone would notice something was wrong, it was him. Abby wouldn’t have seen this in a month of Sundays. “It was probably a cat or a fox or something.”

“It’s a heavy pot,” said Marcus.

“Maybe Ollie knocked into it one day when he was on his bike.”

“Oh, right. Yes. That’s possible.”

“Okay. Shall we get inside? I think your son needs to pee.” They both looked at Oliver who was clutching the front of his shorts and dancing.

“Yes, yes. Sorry.” Marcus opened the door and Oliver rushed into the downstairs bathroom.

Marcus was preparing dinner and Abby was gathering clothes ready to wash them when there was a shout and a cry from Oliver. They both rushed out into the garden. He was standing in front of Bun Bun’s cage, tears streaming down his face.

“What’s the matter?” said Marcus, alarm in his voice.

“Bun Bun’s gone.”

“What?” Marcus went towards the enclosure, opened the metal cage and crawled inside.

Abby picked up a screaming Oliver. “Shush, baby. Shush. It’s okay. I’m sure he’s here somewhere.”

“He’s gone, mummy,” he sobbed.

Abby’s heart thumped. She hoped the rabbit hadn’t escaped. It would break Oliver’s heart.

Marcus came out of the enclosure, shaking his head. “He’s not there,” he said, and Oliver wailed.

“Has he escaped?” said Abby.

“I don’t see how. The cage was locked.”

“Maybe he burrowed. It’s what they do, right?” Abby rocked Oliver in her arms. “We’ll find him, baby.”

Marcus gave her a look as though to say not to promise that, but it was too late. Oliver was looking hopeful.

“Will we?”

“I will search for him,” said Marcus. “Be brave, squirrel.”

Abby sat in the garden chair with Oliver in her arms, cradling him, kissing him. His sobs had subsided because he’d put his thumb in his mouth. She didn’t tell him to take it out; it was best to let him have his comfort. She watched as Marcus turned over every stone in the garden, parted all the bushes. Abby’s heart sank the longer he was out there with no reward.

Eventually he came over to her and Oliver. He bit his lip, shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Oliver screamed, and wriggled out of Abby’s arms, running into the house. Abby and Marcus followed him, watched as he ran upstairs and into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

“Oh, God,” said Abby, tears forming in her eyes. “Our poor baby.”

“I knew I should never have kept that rabbit,” said Marcus, his own eyes bright with tears.

“No. He’s loved it so much. I wouldn’t change it. It’s been good for him.”

“Should we go and comfort him?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we should give him a minute.”

Marcus put his arm around Abby, and they stood at the bottom of the stairs, listening out for their son, waiting for the right time to help him. A few moments later Oliver’s door opened. Abby felt Marcus stiffen in anticipation next to her. They’d never dealt with their child’s sadness before, nothing this deep at least. It was breaking Abby’s heart to think of him in pain.

“Baby?” she said.

“Mummy! Daddy! Guess what?” His voice was cheery, excited. Abby and Marcus looked at each other.

“What is it, squirrel?” said Marcus, heading for the stairs, Abby’s hand in his.

“Come see!”

They entered his room and Abby was not prepared for what she saw. Oliver was sitting on his bed, stroking a rabbit that was clearly Bun Bun because it had his markings.

“What the?” said Marcus, echoing her own thoughts.

“Bun Bun was here! He was waiting for me.” Oliver beamed at them.

“That’s great, darling,” said Abby, at a loss to explain how the rabbit had ended up inside the house.

“Does he seem okay?” said Marcus, sitting on the bed next to Oliver and taking the rabbit from him, turning him this way and that so he could examine him.

“He’s happy to see me,” said Oliver. “He pooped on my bed!” He moved to reveal a small deposit of black droppings on his Fireman Sam duvet.

“Lovely!” said Abby.

“We need to put Bun Bun back outside now where he belongs,” said Marcus.

Oliver’s lip started to tremble. “No, daddy. He missed me. I want him here.”

Marcus sighed. “Okay, but he has to sleep in his travel bed, and you must shut the door or he will escape again.”

They left Oliver playing with Bun Bun and after Marcus had taken the travel bed to him, they sat downstairs in the armchairs.

“What the hell happened there?” said Marcus.

“I don’t know. It’s weird. He was in the enclosure this morning. I saw him when I was drying my costume.”

“He couldn’t have got out. There was no sign of an escape, and how would he have got into a locked house and upstairs to Oliver’s bedroom?” Marcus ran a hand through his hair, a frown on his face.

Abby’s stomach suddenly flipped as she thought about where she had seen McCreary the day before, just around the corner from their house. Had he been scoping it out? Why would he break in and move a rabbit from its enclosure and put it in their house? More to the point, how had he done it? The house had been secure when they’d come home, hadn’t it? It was probably nothing, but she couldn’t keep this from Marcus any longer. He was staring at her as these thoughts were flashing through her head, his brow creased, his dark eyes worried.

“What’s going on?” he said.

“There’s something I have to tell you.”


	14. Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus is annoyed with Abby, but is he being a hypocrite?

“Mind out, love,” said the burly Lancastrian as he dragged boxes through the living room.

Abby moved out of his way, although she knew she’d be in his path again in a minute because that’s how most of her morning had gone. It was Monday, and she was supposed to be teaching her class in their final week but instead she was babysitting Oliver in her home while Marcus directed the men who were all over the house, in between giving her side-eye.

He was speaking to her after her confession on Saturday night, but mainly to give her orders. She figured the sex they’d had was the last she was going to get for a while. He wasn’t so much mad as disappointed, or so he said. “How many times have I told you to tell me everything, Abby?” “Why do you persist in keeping important things from me?”

She’d tried to explain she only wanted him to be happy, but it hadn’t cut much ice. He’d spent most of Sunday calling in every favour he could which was why they were now having a state-of-the-art security system installed only a day later. It was costing a fortune, “but what price our safety, Abby?” he’d said, looking at her as though she was prepared to leave their front door wide open and invite psychopathic killers in for tea.

Oliver was playing with his dinosaurs and Bun Bun in his sandpit. He hadn’t let the rabbit out of his sight, and Abby felt guilty about that as well, if it turned out it was McCreary who’d been in their house and messed with their minds. There was no evidence of how he’d got in if he had. They hadn’t called the police because what could you say? “Our son’s rabbit was found in a locked house. A man was mean to me on the way home from work?” McCreary was clever, left no real trace, just the veiled threat that he knew where they were, who they were, and what would upset them the most. All of this over his pregnant girlfriend!

Abby had thought Marcus would insist Charmaine move out of the holiday park but he’d actually gone the opposite way, determined now that this guy would not dictate to him or get the better of him. Abby wasn’t sure this was a good mood for him to be in, but there was no talking to him, and she was in the doghouse enough as it was.

“Is there a brew going, love?” said the man installing the system.

Abby translated Lancastrian to English. He wanted a cup of tea. “Of course, what would you like?”

“Builder’s tea, nice and strong.”

She moved to the kitchen, passing Marcus on the way. “Would you like a cup of tea?” she said. “I’m making one.”

“I’m fine,” he said, “but thank you.”

Signs of softening. Good. Maybe he’d be back to normal with her by the time the course was over! He’d better be, otherwise the two weeks of their holiday where they were together twenty-four-seven would be a nightmare. He rarely got this annoyed with her, and usually not for more than a few hours. He was worried, though; fearful. After everything else they’d been through, she didn’t really blame him. He’d probably relax once the security system was in.

The tea order turned into a major event, and Abby made a brew for everyone except Marcus, and set out a plate of biscuits which disappeared in the space of a few seconds.

“Lovely place you’ve got here, pet,” said another of the men.

“Thank you.”

“Couldn’t be doing with all the midges meself,” said another. “Annoying little buggers.”

“They don’t bother us too much.”

“Lucky you! I went to Scotland once, west coast, came back and me daughter played join the dots on me arms and legs.”

“What was the picture?” said the first man, the one who was in overall charge.

“Me cock and balls,” he said laughing, and then he remembered Abby was there. “Oh, sorry, love.”

“It’s fine. I’m familiar with what those are.” She smiled to show she wasn’t perturbed by his language.

“Yeah, but I’m sorry anyway.”

“It’s okay. Honestly.”

The men slouched away, and Abby went outside to see Oliver. “What are you doing, baby?” she said.

“Bun Bun is a giant rabbit and all the dinosaurs are scared of him cept Saur.”

“Saur is such a brave dinosaur.” Abby knelt on the deck beside Oliver and picked up one of his toys which was sticking upside down in the sand with its head buried. “This one looks very scared.”

Oliver glanced with disdain at the figure she was holding. “Yes. He’s a feartie-cat.”

“A what?” This was a new word to Abby. Oliver must have made it up; he was at that stage now where he liked to invent words to amuse himself and make them laugh.

“It’s what daddy calls people who get scared.”

“Oh. I haven’t heard him use that word.”

“He said Liam was mean to me cos he is a feartie-cat.” Oliver looked up at Abby with big, honest eyes, and Abby’s heart constricted at the news that someone had been mean to her baby.

“When was Liam mean to you?”

“At school. Sometimes he pinched me and sometimes he called me a girl.”

“You’ve never told me this before, Ollie.”

“Me and daddy are handling it.” His smile was bright as he mentioned Marcus, and then he returned to his game, talking to his toys, showing them to the rabbit, who was busy chewing grass and wasn’t interested.

Abby sat back on her heels. Why hadn’t Marcus told her their son was being bullied? How had she not noticed?

She looked through the patio doors into the house. Marcus was talking to the security expert, their heads bent over some kind of tablet. She’d have to talk to him about this later. She got up and sat on the sun lounger, picked up her book and tried to read while Oliver played, but thoughts of her son being hurt kept running through her mind.

The installation team finally left at six o’clock, and Marcus heated up some leftovers for their dinner. They sat at the table on the deck eating it. There was a tense silence between Marcus and Abby, broken only by Oliver’s constant chattering.

Abby looked at her husband and wondered how long he’d known that Oliver was having trouble with a classmate, and why he hadn’t seen fit to share that information with her. He’d been so adamant earlier that she had to tell him everything and all along he was hiding something like this from her. It was a damned cheek! She frowned at him across the table. He looked at her and frowned back.

“What’s the matter?” he said, gruffly.

“Nothing,” she replied, and she put some pasta in her mouth and chewed on it aggressively.

Marcus stared at her for a moment, then closed his eyes for longer than was necessary as if she was an annoyance to him, before opening them and looking at Oliver.

“How’s Bun Bun, Ollie?” he said.

“He’s fine.”

“Do you think he’s ready to go back into his hutch tonight and sleep there?”

Oliver shook his head. “No.”

Marcus sighed. “He can’t stay in your room forever, squirrel.”

“Why not?”

“Because he belongs outside. He wants to sleep under the stars.”

“I want to sleep under the stars. I could sleep with Bun Bun in his cage.” Oliver looked at Marcus with hopeful eyes.

“That’s not what I meant. You belong in your bed in your room, and Bun Bun belongs in his bed outside.”

“Bun Bun belongs with me,” said Oliver matter-of-factly.

Marcus looked at Abby who looked back at him as defiantly as Oliver. “Some help would be nice,” he said.

Abby shrugged, which was petty she knew, but it didn’t stop her. “I can’t see the harm in Bun Bun being with Ollie a while longer,” she said, and Marcus’s eyes opened wide, and his eyebrows shot up his face in surprise.

“What?”

“You heard me.” She stared at him fixedly, thrusting her jaw out, sticking her nose in the air to show she was going to brook no argument.

Marcus tutted and huffed and sighed, muttering to himself and shaking his head. Abby ignored him. They finished their meal in silence and Marcus grabbed the plates unceremoniously and disappeared into the kitchen to wash up. He didn’t come back out and Abby stayed with Oliver, playing with him until it was his bedtime. She took him inside and found Marcus sitting in his armchair reading a manual about the security system.

“I’m putting our son to bed,” she said, and Marcus looked up and nodded.

“Night, squirrel,” he said, and Abby deposited Oliver in his arms so he could have a cuddle. “I’ll be up later.”

She took Oliver back and spent a long time upstairs bathing him, reading to him and watching him while he slept. She wanted to let go of her anger at Marcus’s hypocrisy, to go downstairs and hug him and kiss him and go back to how they normally were, but the stubborn part of her wouldn’t allow that to happen. Eventually, she heard footsteps on the stairs and the door creaked open. Marcus poked his head around it.

“Is he having trouble falling asleep?” he whispered, a concerned look on his face. He glanced at their softly snoring son and frowned.

Abby softened when she saw his concern and confusion. “No, he’s fine. I just needed some time to myself.”

Marcus nodded. “I’m sorry I’ve been angry with you. I’m an idiot.”

“It’s not that. Well, it is, but we need to talk.”

“Okay. Let’s go downstairs.”

Abby got off the bed and followed Marcus to the living room. He poured her a glass of wine and they sat next to each other on the sofa. Abby stared out of the open patio window at the still-blue sky and the shimmering loch.

“You’re upset with me,” said Marcus. “I can understand why.”

Abby turned to look at him. “Ollie told me today that he’s being bullied at school.”

Marcus looked alarmed. “What? By whom?”

“What do you mean by whom? You know who. Liam.”

Marcus’s features relaxed. “Ah. Liam.”

“Yes, Liam! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s something and nothing.” He took a sip of his drink and looked at her over the glass.

“Oliver said he pinches him and calls him a girl! That doesn’t sound like nothing to me.”

“It happened a couple of times and once was just before I picked Ollie up from school, and he told me about it. I said that people who were mean were usually scared themselves and that we’d handle it. I spoke with Liam’s mum and it was all over within a couple of weeks.”

Abby was relieved to hear it was nothing more than that, but still annoyed that Marcus hadn’t told her. “I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell me about it.”

“Because I didn’t want you rushing down to the school and getting up in the face of the teachers or Liam’s mother.”

“I would not do that!” said Abby indignantly.

“Erm, have you forgotten last year in pre school when that curly-haired kid pushed him over and you scared his poor teenaged mother half to death?”

“Hmm.” The memory of that made Abby smile, and Marcus smiled as well. “I was being protective.”

“I know. You’re a fantastic mother, but this was really nothing much, Abby, and you were busy preparing for the summer school. I didn’t think you needed to be bothered with it.”

“I appreciate that, but you can see the irony here, can’t you?”

Marcus looked confused. He stroked his smooth chin. “What irony?”

“You’ve spent two days hardly talking to me because I didn’t tell you something and then I find out you’ve done the same to me. How many other things to do with our son haven’t you told me?”

“None, that I can think of, but I don’t see how you can compare not telling me someone has threatened you and physically assaulted you with me not telling you a kid called our son a girl.”

“He didn’t physically assault me.”

“He put his hand on you when he had no right to. That’s assault.”

Abby covered her face with her hands and sighed. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d come straight up here and cause a fight.

Marcus surprised her by laughing, a deep laugh that made his shoulders shake.

“What’s so funny?”

“We did it for the same reasons.”

Abby laughed as well. “Yes. I’ll always fight for you and Oliver.”

“I’ll always fight for you and Oliver, too.” He put a hand to her face, caressed her cheek. “But we have to tell each other everything. We’re not protecting each other if we hide things.”

“I know. You’re right.” She took his hand and kissed his palm. “It’s just I love you so much.”

“Sometimes I think we love each other too much,” Marcus said, his voice soft and low.

“What do you mean?” said Abby, his words so unexpected she didn’t know what to think about them.

“I mean that it makes us do rash things sometimes. Like I often think that you’d do anything for me, even if it meant you were hurt, or worse.”

“I would do anything for you,” said Abby, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“I don’t want you to. I don’t want you to be hurt because of me.” He took both her hands and kissed them, then he kissed her face, her cheeks, her lips.

“You can’t make me be something I’m not. I wouldn’t even hesitate, Marcus. Wouldn’t you do the same?”

“I would, yes,” he whispered. “I’d die for you. Over and over again.”

They kissed; their arms wrapped tight around each other. Abby ran her hands over his back, felt the tightness of his muscles, the rise and fall of his chest. His lips were warm and soft, his tongue hot and wet as it battled with hers. He was so full of life and had so much to give. Hopefully, they’d never be apart. They’d be one of those couples who died at the same time, hand in hand in the nursing home.

“That conversation took a turn,” said Marcus when they finally drew apart.

“Neither of us can die,” said Abby. “Who would look after Oliver?”

“Clarke and Octavia,” said Marcus with a snigger.

“Murphy,” said Abby, and they both laughed.

“God help Oliver,” said Marcus.

“I think it will be Murphy who needs the help.”

They curled up together on the sofa, kissing softly, as the light outside dimmed and the first stars emerged. The noise of footsteps interrupted their passion, and a small voice called out.

“Mummy, daddy, I can’t sleep.” Oliver stood in his pyjamas, rubbing his eyes and looking at them.

Marcus held his arm out to him. “Come here, then, squirrel.”

Oliver clambered on Marcus’s knee and manoeuvred until he was in between him and Abby. Abby kissed his dark hair. His curls were damp and sticking to his head.

“Did you have a nightmare, baby?” she said.

“Yes, I was being chased.” He looked at her with big, teary eyes.

Marcus tousled his son’s hair and kissed him. “Mummy and daddy are here, squirrel. It’s alright now. We’ll protect you.”

Oliver rested his head on Abby’s breast, and Marcus put his arm across his son. Abby looked at Marcus and they both smiled. Was it possible to love someone too much? Maybe, but she’d take what they had over anything else, no matter what the consequences.

\---

The following day Abby was back at the holiday park teaching the penultimate day of the school. They were holding an exhibit on the last day, Friday, and Thursday would be spent preparing for that. As usual, there was an end of term atmosphere amongst the students, who were doing more talking and laughing than creating. It didn’t help that it was a warm day with no breeze, and they were all hot and tired.

By the end of the afternoon they were lying on blankets in the field behind the park, canvases abandoned, faces turned up to the sun. Abby was next to Charmaine, who had pulled up her top to get some sun on her swollen belly.

“What are you going to do after the park closes on Friday?” said Abby, who had been pressed by Marcus to bring up the subject if she could.

Charmaine opened one eye, her carefully groomed eyebrow raised to the heavens. “What do you care?” she said.

“Of course I care,” said Abby, more snappily than she should, because she was tired of the attitude of people like Charmaine and McCreary who thought the world owed them something. “If I didn’t care you wouldn’t still be here.”

“I wouldn’t be if your husband had his way.”

“Marcus has been more than accommodating to you. We both have.”

“Yeah. I’m just messing with ya.” Charmaine smiled but Abby didn’t smile in return. She would be glad when this woman was out of their lives. She just wanted to make sure she had somewhere to go, so she wouldn’t have to think about her ever again.

“So what are you going to do?” Abby repeated.

“Go back with him I suppose.”

“McCreary?”

“Who else? He’s not too bad most of the time.”

“Is he really the right thing for you, though?” Abby knew she should just keep quiet and let Charmaine do what she wanted, but it was impossible when the thought of any woman having to live with that disgusting oaf was in her mind. “You don’t need a man to raise a baby, you know. You could do it by yourself.”

“Raised yer kid on yer own, did you?”

Abby had no answer to that, and Charmaine smirked.

“Thought not. It’s alright sitting there with your loving husband and your nice home and your school and it’s all happy and jolly like a fucking Enid Blyton novel. Life isn’t like that for all of us.”

“I know that.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t. So your husband ran off and left you with no money. Did you have to go on benefits? Did you have to sleep on friend’s sofas or find some rat-infested hovel to live in because you couldn’t afford anywhere else? It must have been really tough living in your nice cottage and having nothing to do but paint all day. Nice life for someone with nothing.”

Abby was shocked at how much Charmaine knew about her life. It wasn’t a secret, of course, but she hadn’t been here when Abby had told the students her history. She must have talked to the others about her and Marcus. It was only natural she supposed.

“I have never claimed to have been destitute or anything close to that.”

“Maybe not, but you think it’s okay to judge me and my choices when you’ve never been in my position.”

Abby was about to protest that she wasn’t judging Charmaine, but she was, really, when she thought about it. And she had no right to tell her what to do with her life.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Charmaine smiled at Abby, then lay back on the blanket and closed her eyes. “I kinda like you anyway,” she said.

Abby lay back on the blanket and smiled as well. Charmaine could handle herself, and who knows, maybe a baby would calm McCreary down. She listened to the chatter of her students. Indra and Sinclair discussing where they’d gone wrong as parents; Clarke and Octavia squabbling over the best way to save the environment; Bellamy and Echo not talking at all. She could imagine what they were doing. Abby felt contented. It had been a good school overall. She couldn’t wait for the exhibition on Friday, for the group to get to show their work to local artists, and the community. It was usually a great day.

Something tickled her face and she brushed it away, thinking it was a fly or a midge. It happened again and was accompanied by a high-pitched giggle and a lower voice saying “shush.” She opened her eyes to see Oliver leaning over her with a feathery blade of grass in his hand. Marcus was behind him, laughing silently.

“What are you doing to me?” she said to Oliver.

“Tickling you, mummy.” He brushed her face with the grass again and laughed.

“I’ll show you what tickling is.” She pulled him on top of her and tickled him until he could hardly breathe for laughing. He flopped onto the blanket next to her, panting, his face red. Marcus sat on the other side of her, leaned in and kissed her.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi. What have you boys been up to?”

“Swimming!” said Oliver, and he jumped up and pulled down his pants so she could see he had his swim shorts underneath. He wiggled his bum at her.

“Lovely!” said Abby, laughing. “Does daddy have his swim shorts on as well?” she said, looking at Marcus with a smirk.

“Daddy has nothing on under here,” he said in a low voice.

“No one wants to hear that, Mr Kane,” said Clarke as she approached.

“I do!” said Octavia.

The girls joined Abby, Marcus and Charmaine on the blanket. Clarke pulled Oliver towards her and he sat on her knee, looking up at her adoringly.

“You have a fan, there,” said Abby.

“I’m his fan. He’s so cute!” said Clarke.

“I prefer them older. Much older,” said Octavia, glancing at Marcus.

“We all know what you like, O.” Clarke kissed Oliver’s head.

“What are you guys up to tonight?” said Abby as she watched Clarke and Oliver.

“Murphy’s taking us for a night out on the tiles,” said Clarke.

“We might even go dancing!” said Octavia excitedly.

“That sounds lovely. I can’t remember the last time I went out on the tiles, can you?” she said to Marcus.

“I’m not sure we’ve been out just the two of us since Oliver was born.”

“Really?” said Clarke.

“Don’t you have, like, a babysitter or something?” said Octavia incredulously.

“We could, but it’s a two-hour round trip to go anywhere decent where we live in Lancaster, so it’s hardly worth it.” said Marcus.

“I could NOT stay in all the time.” Octavia screwed up her face in disgust. “Boring!”

“Why don’t you go out tomorrow night?” said Clarke. “I’ll babysit Oliver.”

“Oh, no,” said Marcus, shaking his head. “We couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Well...” He looked at Abby. He probably didn’t want to leave Oliver alone with Clarke, but Abby couldn’t see the harm in it, and the thought of a date night with Marcus for the first time in over five years sounded too good to pass up.

“It might be nice, Marcus,” she said. “We could go to the Loch Lomond Hotel, so it wouldn’t be too far.”

“Maybe.” He still didn’t look convinced, so Abby pushed one step further.

“We have the security system now, so we can keep an eye on Clarke and Oliver, be there if she needs us.”

“What security system?” said Clarke.

“We had an incident the other day, so we’ve installed security. I can see what’s happening in the house from my phone or a tablet,” said Marcus. “So you wouldn’t be able to get up to anything, like throwing parties.”

Clarke put her hand on her chest and looked at him with mock indignation. “I would NOT throw a party when I’m looking after Oliver. You can trust me, I promise.”

Abby gave Marcus her finest wide-eyed hopeful look, which had worked with him since they first started dating properly. It didn’t fail her now.

“Okay,” he said with a heavy sigh, as though Clarke was wanting a favour from him rather than offering him an opportunity for some fun.

“Great!” said Abby. “Would you like to spend some time with Clarke tomorrow night, baby?” she said to Oliver.

“Can we dig for worms?” he said, looking at Clarke with the same look Abby had just given Marcus.

“Erm, yes, I guess, if you want,” said Clarke.

“No worms, Ollie,” said Marcus. “Clarke’s an artist, so you can paint a pot or something like that.”

Clarke beamed at Marcus’s description of her. “That sounds fab,” she said. “We’ll enjoy that won’t we, Ollie?”

“Yes,” said Oliver. “Can we go on the swings now?”

“Okay.” Clarke took Oliver to the swings and Octavia followed.

“You’re brave,” said Charmaine, who Abby had forgotten was lying behind them. “Not sure I’d let a teenager near my kid.”

“Clarke’s eighteen. She’s practically an adult, and she’s sensible. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

Charmaine merely smiled and turned her head so she wasn’t looking at them.

“Maybe she’s right,” whispered Marcus, his brow furrowed.

“No, she’s not. Clarke will be fine. We’re going out, and that’s all there is to it.” Abby was determined now that nothing was going to stop her having a night out alone with the man she loved. They deserved it.

“Okay,” said Marcus, and he laid back on the blanket. Abby laid next to him and he took her hand in his. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too.” She closed her eyes and let the sun’s rays bathe her in warmth.


	15. Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby and Marcus enjoy a night out, until...

“You look lovely, Abby,” said Clarke as she stood in the living room of the house, clutching her paint box.

Abby looked down at the burgundy chiffon halter neck dress she’d decided to wear. She’d thought it was elegant enough for a fine dining restaurant, but cool enough for this warm summer night.

“Thank you. Are you sure you’re going to be fine with Oliver?” She slipped her phone and her purse in her bag and looked Clarke up and down.

“Yes. We’re going to have fun, aren’t we, Ollie?” Clarke smiled indulgently at Oliver, and Abby relaxed a little. She’d be fine with him, and it was good for Oliver to have different company.

“Okay,” she said.

“Don’t have too much fun,” said Marcus as he fastened the cuffs of his white dress shirt with the poppy and thistle cufflinks Abby had designed for him. “He needs to be in bed for eight.”

“Got it, Mr Kane.”

“And I can see you on this tablet, don’t forget that.” Marcus picked up the tablet and waved it at Clarke, who nodded.

“You can see me any time you want. I understand.”

Marcus sighed and pursed his lips as he looked at Clarke and Oliver, who was bouncing up and down on his toes. Abby thought their son was desperate for them to go so he could have fun with Clarke. It made her smile.

“Okay. We won’t be late, and you have my number in case you need me,” said Abby.

“I do.” Clarke’s smile was patient, as though she was dealing with a particularly annoying child.

“He’s had his dinner so he shouldn’t need anything to eat. No chocolate!” Marcus looked pointedly at Oliver when he said this.

Oliver smiled up at him with big innocent eyes. Abby suspected he already had his mind set on persuading Clarke to let him have some of the Dairy Milk that was in the fridge.

“No chocolate. Bed at eight. You’re watching me. I got it. You guys go and have fun.” Clarke moved so that Abby and Marcus were edged towards the door.

Abby bent to kiss Oliver one last time. “Night, sweetheart. I’ll come and see you when I get back even though you’ll be asleep.”

“Okay, mummy.”

“Night, squirrel.” Marcus lingered, frowning at Clarke, and Abby took his arm, linked hers through it.

“Let’s go,” she said. “They’ll be fine.” She ushered Marcus through the door and out to their car. “Do you want me to drive so you can have a drink?”

Marcus screwed up his face, then shook his head. “No, I don’t think I’ll drink. I want to stay clear-headed.”

Abby put her arms around him, kissed his lips. “They’ll be fine,” she repeated. “Stop worrying.”

“I know. It’s just, it’s our boy. It’s one thing leaving him with Alice, but Clarke’s a different story. We hardly know her.”

“We know her well enough, and it’s only for a couple of hours, and you have your security camera thing.”

“Yes, that’s true. It’s nearly as good as being there.” He patted his pocket where the tablet was located.

“Exactly. Now, can we go and have a nice time just the two of us for once?”

“Okay.” Marcus kissed her, then opened the door for Abby to get in the car.

It was a half-hour drive to the other side of the loch, and Marcus drove slowly so they could enjoy the view and the early evening light. It was gone seven-thirty when they arrived, and their dinner reservation was for eight, so they ensconced themselves in huge armchairs in the bar nursing virgin cocktails. Abby’s phone beeped with a text and she smiled when she looked at it. She showed it to Marcus.

“See. They’re fine.” She looked again at the picture Clarke had sent of her and Oliver holding up their creations, which were a colourfully decorated set of Fireman Sam clay figures.

“I’ve never seen a blue cat before,” said Marcus, leaning towards Abby so he could see the photo again.

“He has a good imagination our son.”

“He does. Takes after his mum.” Marcus held out his hand and Abby took it.

“We’re doing okay with him, aren’t we?” she said, more as a statement than a question.

Marcus’s brown eyes softened as he smiled. “Of course! He’s perfect.”

“Yeah.” Abby laughed fondly. “What do you think he’ll be like when he’s older?”

Marcus took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t know. He’s so curious and full of life. I hope he keeps that as he grows.”

“Everything will be boring to him at some point, when he’s a teenager.” Abby looked at Marcus and saw her own feelings about that reflected in his face.

“A teenager. Jesus.” Marcus sniffed. “I was never bored as a teenager. I entertained myself quite happily.”

“You were a nerd,” said Abby with a grin.

“And you were Miss Frivolity, were you?”

“I knew how to have fun.”

“So did I.”

“Having an alien potato as a plaything isn’t fun, Marcus,” said Abby, referring to a story Alice had told her that she still found hilarious.

“I was five!”

“Hmm.” Abby laughed. “Maybe it’s you Oliver gets his imagination from.”

“I contributed his good looks; that’s my part done.”

“Big head.”

They grinned at each other, and then the waitress came to usher them to their table.

The restaurant had large windows that overlooked the loch, and they were seated at a corner table with a view across to the other side, where their house was, although that couldn’t be seen because it was hidden by a small island in the middle of the water.

“It’s always strange seeing Loch Lomond from this side,” said Abby as she looked at the menu. “It doesn’t seem like the same loch.”

“And all the people on this side as well,” said Marcus, looking around at the busy restaurant with his nose screwed up.

Abby smiled to herself. He had an overriding distain for humanity in general but was deeply loyal and caring to the people he loved, and sometimes even to those he didn’t, Charmaine Diyoza being a case in point. Abby loved every part of him no matter what.

He looked up at her, his glasses perched on his angular nose. “They have fish and chips,” he said, smirking at her.

“So I see, but will they be as good as Blackpool?”

“We’ll have to ask the seagull that stole mine.”

Abby laughed. “Your face was a picture.”

“Cheeky bugger,” said Marcus, pulling the same face he had back then. “We’ll have to take Oliver to the Illuminations this year. He’s old enough to appreciate them now.”

“Oh, yes! I want him to try cotton candy, and Blackpool rock, and eat fish and chips from the paper,” said Abby.

“He’ll get too excited with all that sugar.”

“You were excited in Blackpool,” said Abby, her voice low and suggestive.

“For very different reasons.”

“Yes.” She rubbed her foot against his leg beneath the table, and Marcus bit his bottom lip, looked around to see if anyone was watching.

“Stop that,” he said with a smile.

Abby moved her foot higher, causing him to jump, and then moved it away before she was seen. “Maybe we could stop at the overlook on the way back,” she said, raising her eyebrows at him.

“And why might that be?” said Marcus, shifting in his seat, his eyes dark and lustful.

“For old times’ sake.” Abby grinned.

Marcus smiled. “It’s a long time since we’ve done it in a car.”

“It was colder that night than when we did it in the Volvo.”

“It was hot in the car.”

They both laughed.

“That was before we had Oliver,” said Marcus with a sigh.

“Well, we were expecting him; we just didn’t realise it.”

“That Christmas seems like a long time ago and also like yesterday.” Abby looked out over the loch. Somewhere across the water was the cottage they’d stayed in to recover from the trauma of what happened in the cave with Jackson. Then there was the land their house stood on, that Marcus had shown her. She’d told him she was pregnant standing amongst the tussocky grass, and he’d asked her to marry him. Now they had their beautiful home there, and their perfect son.

“Six years ago nearly,” said Marcus, and he looked as wistful as Abby.

“Where will we be in another six years?”

“Oliver will be starting high school.”

“God.”

“Yeah.”

“What would you like to be doing?” Abby was curious to know how Marcus saw his professional future. They’d spent the last few years living in the moment, enjoying Oliver, dealing with the school and Marcus’s mayoral responsibilities. He’d mentioned briefly moving to Scotland permanently, so he must have been thinking about it.

The waitress arrived before Marcus had a chance to answer. Abby ordered monkfish and Marcus the roasted duck breast. He sipped his mocktail while he thought.

“I’d like to increase the reach of the Foundation.”

“Beyond Lancaster you mean?”

“Yes. I was thinking about contacting the Governor of the Bar-L in Glasgow, see if she’d be interested in replicating the offender rehabilitation programme.”

“The Bar-L?”

“HMP Barlinnie. What do you think about that idea?” He took the olive out of his drink, sucked it into his mouth while he waited for her response.

“It’s a great idea. Will it mean you being away from home, though?”

“No. It’s only a two-hour drive from Lancaster, or I can meet her when we’re up here.”

“You’ve had some great results with the programme, so it seems natural to me to expand it if you can.”

“She’d be receptive. She replicated your art therapy project after all.”

“That’s true. A woman of vision.” Abby smiled and took a sip of her own drink.

Their meals arrived, and they ate in silence for a few moments.

“What about you?” said Marcus. “Where do you want to be in six years’ time?”

Abby crunched on some crispy samphire. “I feel like I have a good balance now, between the school and the online art gallery. They give me time to be with Oliver as well.”

“You don’t want to have a physical gallery, like you used to have?”

Abby had almost forgotten about her old gallery in Glendale. That was a different lifetime. It had been an exciting life, with the parties, the exhibitions, being part of what she saw now as being an exclusive social circle. Too exclusive for her tastes these days.

“I don’t think so. I like my life now. The school and the foundation give me fulfilment, and my art is my creative outlet. You and Oliver are my joy, my heart. I can’t imagine anything else.”

“I feel the same.” Marcus forked some confit potato into his mouth and closed his eyes in pleasure. “God, this is amazing.”

“You and your potato! I swear you’d be happy eating nothing else.”

“It’s a Scottish staple!”

“Even when it’s a sprouting alien?”

Marcus laughed. “Yes.”

Abby ate some more fish and watched Marcus while he ate. He was smiling, enjoying his food, the view, her company, hopefully. He was definitely a lot less stressed up here than at home, but then that was probably because he wasn’t working full time, and was out in the fresh air, playing with his son, loving his wife. She decided to ask him about whether he wanted to make a permanent move. She’d promised him they’d talk about it while they were here, but had avoided it since he mentioned it, because she didn’t know what to say if he asked her what she wanted. They should talk, though, in the spirit of not keeping things from each other. She coughed to clear her throat.

“Remember our first night here, when you made the pasta and we sat out on the deck?”

“On this trip?”

“Yes.”

Marcus nodded. “Of course.”

“You talked about wanting to move here permanently.”

“Did I?”

“Yes. Are you still thinking about that?”

“Hmm. Don’t you think that would be nice?”

“I’m asking you what you want.”

He placed his knife and fork on his empty plate, pushed it to one side and sat back so he could contemplate her. “It’s a good life we have here.”

“We have a good life in Arkchester too.”

“I know, but there’s little we do there that we can’t do here.”

“What about the community centre? Your mayoral duties?”

Marcus shrugged. “Once the centre is up and running I can step back from it, and I’m up for re-election next year. It might be time to let someone else have a turn.”

“All our memories are in Arkchester, though.” It was her move to the Lancashire town that had changed Abby’s life, and Marcus’s. The thought of leaving that behind permanently was upsetting to her.

“They are, and I treasure them, but here our memories are untainted.”

His comment was a surprise to Abby, because even though they’d been attacked in their home, threatened and stabbed, they’d never thought about leaving it. The cave they’d never been to since, but their home, where they’d admitted their love, revealed their secrets to each other, conceived their son, had never been in question.

“Is that why you want to move here?” said Abby.

“No, but.”

Whatever Marcus was about to say was interrupted by Abby’s phone ringing. A rush of adrenaline coursed through her as she picked it up, expecting it to be Clarke with a problem about Oliver. It was John Murphy ringing. What could he want at this time of night?

“It’s John,” she said to Marcus. “I’ll just take it quickly.”

Marcus nodded, and smiled at the waitress who had arrived to remove their plates and give them the dessert menu.

Abby answered the call. “Hi, John. What’s up?”

Murphy’s voice was unusually quiet and clipped when he spoke. “You need to come to the caravan park.”

Abby’s heart beat faster. “What? Why? I’m out having dinner with Marcus.”

Marcus looked up from the menu, a frown on his face. Abby gave him a shrug to show she wasn’t sure what was going on.

“You just need to come, Abby. Both of you.” She heard something in his voice that shocked her, something that she’d never thought she’d hear from Murphy. Fear.

“What’s happened, John?”

“Just hurry.” The line went dead, and Abby looked up at Marcus.

“What’s the matter?” he said, his own voice tinged with worry.

“I don’t know. He said we need to go to the caravan park.”

“Why?”

“He didn’t say. He just said to hurry.”

Marcus sat up straighter, leaned towards Abby. “Call him back.”

Abby dialled Murphy’s number, but it went straight to voicemail. “It’s his voicemail,” she said to Marcus.

“Give me your phone,” he said, and she handed the phone to him. “Murphy,” Marcus said to the answering machine. “What’s going on? Ring us back immediately.” He handed the phone to Abby and they both stared at it, waiting for it to ring but it remained silent.

“Fuck!” said Marcus. “Why can’t that boy have a straightforward conversation?”

“I’m worried, Marcus. He sounded scared, and that’s not like him.”

Marcus stroked his chin, pulled out his bottom lip. “I’m going to check on Oliver.” He took out his tablet and called up the security app. His features relaxed after a few seconds, and he showed the screen to Abby. It showed Clarke lying on the sofa watching the TV. Abby watched for a few seconds, but nothing happened except the flickering of the screen.

“They’re okay,” she said.

“Yes. Oliver must be in bed asleep.” Marcus sighed. “Okay. I suppose we’d better go and see what the problem is, although why he can’t just say instead of being all cryptic, I don’t know. If it’s something and nothing I’m going to kill him.”

They settled the bill and headed out to their car. Marcus slammed his door as he got inside, put the car into gear aggressively and the tyres of their Land Rover screeched as he peeled out of the car park.

“I hope it’s nothing serious,” said Abby as they sped through the dark night.

“It won’t be,” said Marcus, but she could tell from his furrowed brow that he was worried. “Call Clarke,” he said. “Just to be sure.”

Abby dialled Clarke’s cell phone but there was no answer. “She’s probably asleep. She looked like she was.”

“Yes. Okay. Well, we’ll see what Murphy wants and then we’ll go home.”

Abby looked out at the loch as they drove along its edge. The dark water was dotted with lights from moored-up boats and the scattered houses that sat along its shore. A feeling of dread settled over her, making her stomach churn. She hoped this was nothing to do with McCreary. Why hadn’t Murphy told her what the problem was? Why did he sound fearful? He was cheeky, yes, and he liked to wind Marcus up, but he would never upset Abby deliberately. He wouldn’t let her worry. Something was terribly wrong; she knew it.

They drove past their house on the way to the caravan park, and it was tempting to tell Marcus to stop and call in, make sure all was well, but Abby didn’t. They had seen that Clarke was fine, and Oliver would be asleep, and if anything serious had happened to Murphy or any of the students then the sooner they reached them the better. Nevertheless, she glanced at the gate as they passed, thought about their sleeping son within, sent him a mental kiss and cuddle.

When they pulled into the car park of their business all was quiet. The minibus was in its usual spot, along with the car they’d bought for Murphy to use. There was a light on in his caravan, and Marcus went up the steps, Abby behind him. He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. He tried the handle, but it didn’t open.

“Do you have your keys?” said Marcus. “I left mine at home.”

“Yes. They’re in my bag.” Abby fumbled in her bag, found the large set of keys that gave access to most of their lives. She found the one for Murphy’s caravan and handed it to Marcus. He inserted it into the lock, turned it. It clicked and the handle moved. Marcus pushed open the door, stepped inside. Abby followed close behind. They stood inside the doorway, surveying the scene. It looked like it always did. Papers were stacked on the table. Empty beer bottles were lined up on the countertop. There was no sign of Murphy.

“Murphy?” said Marcus as he moved towards the bedrooms at the rear of the van.

Abby’s heart was beating so fast it was painful. “John?” she said. There was an emptiness to the van, a silence that told her no one was here. Marcus came out of the bedrooms shaking his head.

“He’s not here,” he said.

Abby took out her cell phone, dialled the number again. It went straight to voicemail. “Nothing.”

“Maybe he’s in another van.”

They left Murphy’s van, stood outside in the dark and listened. The place was eerily quiet. It was dark on the paths. The lamps that usually lit the way were out. Marcus took out his phone, switched on the torch so they could see where they were going. They walked through the park, knocking on doors, but no one answered.

“Where the hell is everyone?” said Abby, whose skin was crawling now with apprehension and fear.

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t like this, Marcus.”

“It’s okay,” he said, and he put his arm around her, held her tight.

Abby thought he knew everything was far from okay, but he didn’t want to worry her. Too late for that. “Maybe they’re in the Mess, finishing dinner?”

“Good point,” said Marcus, and he turned in that direction, still holding onto Abby.

Something brushed against Abby’s hair and she jumped, let out a yell. “What the hell?”

“A bat, I think,” said Marcus.

“Goddamn it. I’m going to kill John myself if this is some kind of joke.”

“That’s my girl,” said Marcus, and he gave her shoulder a squeeze before letting go as they couldn’t go up the steps to the Mess side by side.

When he tried the door handle it moved easily, and he pushed open the door. Abby followed him into the room. The torch light on Marcus’s phone died as they entered, and the room was dark inside. Marcus held his hand behind his back so Abby could take it. Together they walked further into the room.

“I’ll sort out the torch on my phone,” said Marcus, but before he could do anything there was a click and all the lights in the room came on, blinding Abby temporarily. She shielded her eyes with the back of her hand.

When her eyes had adjusted to the light, she saw the students huddled together at the back of the room. A scruffy man with a shaved head was standing over them with a large gun. A second man stood, smiled at Abby and Marcus.

“Welcome,” said McCreary. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Bile rose into Abby’s throat, making her feel sick. Marcus squeezed her hand. She was pulled around as he turned to head back to the door.

“Not so fast,” said a deep voice. “Put your hands on your head.” The owner of the voice pointed another gun at them, waved for them to move towards the students. It was McCreary’s stupid sidekick, Kodiak.

“What’s going on?” said Marcus as he stumbled forward.

“I’m sorry, Abby,” said Murphy as they approached where he was sitting on the floor with his back to the wall. “They gave us no choice.”

“Shut up!” said McCreary’s other henchman, and he kicked Murphy in the thigh. Murphy didn’t cry out or show any sign of pain, except for briefly closing his eyes.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry,” said Abby, trying to keep her voice calm, but inside she was in turmoil. What did McCreary want? She scanned the students. They were all there except for Clarke of course. And Diyoza. There was no sign of her.

“What do you want, McCreary?” said Marcus, his voice a mixture of angry and weary.

“I’m glad you asked. Please sit down.” McCreary indicated one of the tables, and when Marcus didn’t move, he nodded at Kodiak who pushed Marcus forward and forced him into the chair. “And the lovely Abigail,” he said, looking her up and down. “That dress is mighty fine.”

Abby sat in the chair next to Marcus before Kodiak had a chance to put his filthy hands on her. “Mr McCreary,” she said, in her softest voice. “There’s no need for all of this.”

McCreary pulled up a chair next to Abby, put his hand on her knee. Marcus strained towards them but Kodiak put his gun against his head.

“Careful, Mayor Kane. You don’t want your pretty wife to get hurt, do you?”

“I’ll kill you if you touch her,” said Marcus.

“I would expect nothing less. Of course, you’ll be dead if you so much as try, and then who will protect her?”

“I can look after myself!” said Abby, indignant at being reduced to a helpless creature, despite the situation.

“And that’s why I like you.” McCreary leered at her, let his fingers reach the hem of Abby’s dress, push it up an inch.

“I’m warning you,” said Marcus.

McCreary laughed. “You two are enormous fun. Did you know she said she’d rather die than be with me? She was happy to leave you and your son alone, barely hesitated.”

“She has taste,” said Marcus, which Abby thought was probably an unwise thing to say but loved him for it all the same. She smiled at him, and he smiled in return.

McCreary laughed. “Aren’t they fun, Kodiak?”

“A riot,” said the huge bear-like man.

“Where’s Charmaine?” said Abby, concerned as to why she wasn’t in the room with them, wondering what McCreary had done with her.

“Funny you should ask that.” He took his hand from Abby’s knee, moved to the other side of them and sat next to Marcus. “Do you have your tablet?” he said.

Abby saw Marcus’s face blanche. “My what?”

“Your tablet. The thing you’re monitoring your house with.”

Abby gasped audibly; she couldn’t help it.

“That’s right,” said McCreary. “You’re starting to understand now, aren’t you?”

“What have you done with my son, with Clarke?” said Abby, her voice sounding strangled. Saliva gathered in her mouth, and she fought the urge to be sick.

“Check your tablet, and you’ll see.”

“If you’ve hurt him,” said Marcus as he took the tablet from his pocket.

McCreary merely raised his eyebrows in response. Abby leaned close to Marcus as he pulled up the app and clicked on it. An image filled the screen.

“Surprise!” said McCreary as Abby and Marcus took in the scene in their living room.

Clarke was sitting on the sofa, her face pale. It was hard to see for certain, but it looked as though she was crying. Abby took another sharp intake of breath. A familiar face loomed into view.

“Sorry about this,” said Charmaine Diyoza.

Marcus pressed a button on his tablet and the view zoomed out. Charmaine had a gun pointed at Clarke, and there was someone else in the background, although it was hard to make them out.

“Where’s Oliver?” said Marcus through gritted teeth.

“Well, now,” said McCreary. “He’s...”

“He’s asleep!” shouted Clarke before McCreary could finish his sentence. “He doesn’t know.”

Diyoza prodded the gun in Clarke’s back and Clarke looked defiantly up at her. “Fuck off!” she said.

McCreary tutted. “I’d almost think she belonged to you, Abby. Feisty little thing.”

“Is my son okay?” Abby cried.

“Yes. Yes. He’s fine. For now. As long as you cooperate.”

Marcus sighed. “Tell us what you want.”

“I want what belongs to me. What you stole from me.”

Marcus looked at Abby, his frown identical to the one she knew she had on her face. He looked back at McCreary. “What are you talking about?”

It was McCreary’s turn to sigh. “Are you really going to play this game?”

“What game? I don’t know what you want. We haven’t stolen anything from you.”

“Very well. Newman,” said McCreary, and the man in the shadows of their living room stepped forward. “You know what to do.”

Newman disappeared from view and Abby and Marcus sat in agonised silence while they waited to see what would happen. A minute later McCreary’s phone beeped. He looked at it, then showed it to her and Marcus. It was a photo of Newman standing over their sleeping son, a gun pressed to his dark curls.

Abby cried out. “Oliver!” Marcus reached for her hand, took it and squeezed it.

“Don’t hurt our boy,” he said.

“Then tell me what I want to know.”


	16. Swift and Decisive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCreary holds the group hostage at the caravan park, while Oliver is in the grip of Diyoza. Can Kane and Abby give them what they want?

Abby felt despair overwhelm her. Oliver was sleeping, thank God, but seeing him with a gun pressed to his head was too much to take. Her heart was thumping hard and she was cold to the core. She felt helpless, because they weren’t with Oliver and had no control over what was going to happen to him. Marcus must be going out of his mind. She glanced at him; his face was poker straight, but he was fidgeting with his fingers, picking at the edges of his nails which he hadn’t done for years. He was trying hard to hold his emotions in check.

She looked McCreary up and down. He was a loathsome individual. He was unpredictable, and that made him dangerous. He had a calm way of speaking, as though they were all having a friendly conversation. He didn’t raise his voice or get mad, at least he hadn’t yet. He was confident, though, determined, and that scared her as well. He was convinced they knew what he was talking about, but Abby had no idea, and she was sure Marcus was the same. What could they do if he wanted something they didn’t have? What would he do?

“Is this about Charmaine?” said Marcus. “Because we never stole her from you and she’s clearly with you now.” He gestured to his tablet which was propped up on the table in front of them.

McCreary gave Marcus a long, hard stare. “You’re not going to give up easy, are you? I’m not surprised to be honest.” He kicked his legs out, put his gun on the table, folded his arms. “I’ve done my research on you, because I’m good like that. It’s why I’m successful, usually. You have a lot of money and it’s not clear where any of it comes from. Two expensive houses, this place, a Foundation, pretty dresses for your wife, everything your son could ever want. How’s it all paid for, Kane?”

“That’s none of your business.” Marcus folded his own arms, mirroring McCreary.

Abby looked at the gun McCreary had left casually on the table. Could she get to it? No. She was too far away, and Marcus was between them. He was probably leaving it there to taunt them, or tempt them.

“It’s very much my business, because it tells me that stealing from other people is what you do all the time. All of this niceness, this philanthropy is a cover isn’t it, for what you really get up to.” He picked up his gun, got up and walked around to Marcus. He stood behind him, leaned in. Abby could see the gun was against Marcus’s back. He pushed Marcus forward with it and he had to put his hands on the table to steady himself.

“You’re delusional,” said Marcus.

“People like you make me sick. You put on a front, pretend you’re a pillar of society, when really you stink. You’re worse than me, because at least I’m honest about who I am.”

“There’s nothing honest about you,” said Marcus, and McCreary pushed the gun into Marcus’s back. He grimaced with pain.

“Marcus!” cried Abby.

“This has gone far enough,” said Murphy from the back of the room.

“Shut up,” said McCreary.

He moved from Marcus to Abby. He put his hand on her head, caressed her hair. Marcus started to stand but Kodiak moved swiftly for a big man and held him down, his gun in his back.

“I do like you, Abigail,” McCreary said, his fingers entwined in Abby’s hair. “I’m willing to believe you don’t know what your husband gets up to, who he really is.”

Abby didn’t speak; she wasn’t going to give this horrible man anything unless she had to. The feel of his fingers in her hair was making goosebumps appear on her arms. His sour stench filled her nostrils and she wanted nothing more than to pull away, but she remained still. She wanted him to see she wasn’t afraid of him, and also didn’t want to antagonise him unnecessarily.

“If you want your son and Clarke to be unharmed, then I would advise you to work your considerable charms on your husband right now, and get him to tell the truth, otherwise I really can’t be responsible for what happens next.”

Abby decided her best course of action was to try and play along with McCreary for the moment. Maybe she’d at least be able to get out of him what he was looking for.

“It would help if I knew what he’s stolen from you,” she said, looking up at him, her eyes as innocent looking as she could make them.

McCreary leaned in closer to her. “Coins,” he said. “He’s stolen my coins.”

The coins? That’s what this was about? Abby’s eyes must have grown wide, because McCreary pulled back, a satisfied grin on his face.

He nodded. “I KNEW you knew what I was talking about.”

“You think we’ve stolen the coins that were in the cave?” Marcus looked at McCreary incredulously.

“I know you have. I want them back. Give them to me and that’s the end of this.” He waved the gun around the room. “No one needs to get hurt.”

Abby looked at the students. Indra and Murphy were glowering. Sinclair looked confused. Bellamy had his arm around Octavia. Echo seemed non-plussed, as though this was an everyday occurrence for her. Her heart sank. They didn’t have the coins, and there was no way of satisfying McCreary. What was going to happen now?

“What coins is this idiot talking about?” said Murphy.

“We were out walking on the moors a couple of weeks ago and I saw some men with guns acting strangely,” replied Marcus. “I guess you were one of them,” Marcus said, directing this last part to McCreary. “I went back later and found some coins buried in a cave. I left them where they were and called the police. When we went back the next day with the detective they were gone.”

McCreary was watching Marcus closely as he told the tale. He glanced at Kodiak then back at Marcus. He had a slight frown on his face. Did he believe them?

“I thought your wife was the creative one. Didn’t realise you could spin a good yarn.”

“It’s not a story,” said Marcus. “It’s the truth.”

McCreary sighed. “I’ve had enough of this.” He picked up the tablet. “Get Newman to bring the boy downstairs,” he said to Diyoza.

“No!” cried Abby. “Leave him alone!”

Marcus leapt out of his chair and was upon McCreary before anyone could react, including his minder, Kodiak.

“You’re not harming my son,” he shouted, dragging McCreary to the ground, smothering him with his body.

Abby couldn’t see where the gun was. God, what if it was between them? What if it went off accidentally? “Marcus!” she screamed, jumping up from her own chair and moving towards them.

“Stay back, Abby,” said Marcus as he put his arm against McCreary’s neck. McCreary was kicking and struggling but couldn’t move.

“Kodiak!” he shouted.

The butt of the big man’s gun landed on Marcus’s back with a thud, and Marcus exhaled air, and groaned. McCreary pushed him off and scrambled to his feet. “Tie him up,” he said to Kodiak, then he kicked Marcus in the stomach, causing him to double up in pain. McCreary knelt. “No one tries to get the better of me,” he whispered, then he punched Marcus in the face, and he fell back, unconscious.

Abby cried, ran towards him. McCreary held her back.

“Sit down,” he said to Abby, and he pushed her into her chair. “Have you got Newman?” he said to Diyoza.

“I don’t want to hurt the child,” she said, looking at him defiantly.

“I don’t care what you want. Go and get the boy.”

“They don’t know where the coins are, Paxton. Can’t you see that?”

“They’re bluffing. You’ve spent too long with them; you’ve gone soft.” He took out his phone, dialled a number.

“Bring the child downstairs. I’m putting an end to this,” he said.

Abby looked at Marcus. Kodiak had dragged him towards the students, his hands tied behind his back. Murphy gathered Marcus to him, laid his head in his lap.

“He’s okay,” he mouthed to Abby, but she didn’t believe it. She started to cry.

“Please don’t hurt Oliver. Take me instead. I’ll do anything. Whatever you want.”

“It’s tempting,” said McCreary, running a finger along Abby’s jaw, “but I want my coins. Do you have them?”

Abby shook her head. McCreary picked the tablet up from the table, showed it to her. Newman had arrived in the living room, Oliver slung over his shoulder. He was still asleep, thankfully. Abby was grateful he was a heavy sleeper. “Please, McCreary,” she said, her desperation overwhelming her. “Anything you want.”

“You were willing to die rather than submit yourself to me a few days ago. Different when the danger’s real, isn’t it?” He sighed, leered at Abby. “You are lovely. I wouldn’t mind a taste, but the girlfriend’s watching. I doubt she’d be happy.”

He looked at the tablet. “You know what to do, Newman.”

Abby watched in horror as Newman laid Oliver on the sofa next to Clarke. He pointed his gun at him.

“Last chance,” said McCreary, his eyes boring into Abby’s.

“I can’t give you what I don’t have,” she sobbed.

“Newman,” said McCreary.

The room went deadly silent, and the click of the hammer on Newman’s gun as he pulled it back was loud.

Abby’s sobs broke through the silence. She wanted to shout to Oliver, to tell him she loved him, but he was asleep, and it was better this way, as unbelievable as it was to have that thought.

“I have them,” said a calm voice from behind Abby. She turned, along with McCreary.

Echo got slowly to her feet, ignoring Kodiak and the other gunman who trained their guns on her. “I have your coins,” she said, and she stared at McCreary with cold eyes.

Abby’s relief was huge. She started shaking and couldn’t stop.

“Hold it,” said McCreary to Newman, and the man stepped back.

Abby watched as Clarke gathered Oliver into her arms, moved away towards the patio doors. Diyoza pointed her gun at her but didn’t follow.

“I’m not running,” Abby heard Clarke say.

“You’ve got them?” said McCreary, walking towards Echo. “How?”

Abby took the opportunity to go to Marcus. No one stopped her. She sat next to Murphy, took Marcus into her arms, stroked his hair. A huge bruise was already blooming on his face. “Wake up,” she whispered. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

“We have to do something,” murmured Indra while McCreary was occupied with Echo and the other two gunmen were distracted.

“Let’s wait and see,” replied Abby. “This could all end peacefully if Echo gives him what he wants.”

“I don’t trust him at all,” said Murphy.

“Me either.” Indra shook her head.

Marcus groaned and stirred. Abby looked down at him. “Wake up, darling,” she said, and she kissed his forehead. His eyes fluttered open, and he stared at her unfocused for a moment, then he tried to sit, and groaned again, putting a hand to his head.

“What happened?”

“He punched you.”

“Oliver!” He tried to sit up again, managed to rest his head against Abby’s chest.

“He’s fine. Echo had the coins. She just admitted it.”

“What?” Marcus was still dazed, his eyes heavy and tired.

“She’s talking to McCreary now,” whispered Abby, and she started to undo Marcus’s restraints.

“I was out hunting on the moors when I saw you and your goons,” Echo was saying. “I saw Abby and Kane as well; knew they’d seen you. I didn’t dare go and get whatever you’d buried straight away in case they came back with the police, so I waited, and I watched when I could. Nothing happened, so I went to the cave one night and I took them.”

“Where are they?”

“They’re here.”

McCreary shook his head. “You’re lying. We searched your van.”

“I know you did. What better place to hide them than somewhere that’s already been searched?” She arched her eyebrow, smiled at him.

“If this is a scam,” said McCreary, “they’re all going to get it, starting with your boyfriend.” He pointed his gun at Bellamy.

“Over my dead body!” said Octavia.

“Don’t tempt me.” McCreary grabbed Echo, moved her towards the door.

Kodiak stepped in front of them. “I don’t trust her boss. She has weapons. You shouldn’t go alone.”

McCreary looked around, sighed. “True. Okay, tie them all up then come with me. McCain can keep an eye on them.” He picked up the tablet. “I’ll be away fifteen minutes tops. If I don’t come back, shoot them all,” he said to Diyoza. He closed the tablet, turned to the group. “I don’t want any of you trying to distract her.”

Kodiak tied everyone’s hands apart from Marcus, who kept his behind his back as though he was still tied, although Abby had loosened them. He and McCreary left with Echo.

Indra turned to Octavia who was sitting on the far side of the group. “Distract him,” she whispered.

Octavia frowned, then called to McCain. “My hands hurt. That bastard tied me too tight.”

McCain went over to her, and Indra turned to Marcus and Abby. “We have to get out of here.”

“Why?” said Abby. “He’ll be back soon with the coins and it will all be over.”

“Do you really trust him? Do you trust Echo? What if she doesn’t have the coins? What if she’s lying? She might be giving us an opportunity to escape.”

“Indra’s right,” said Murphy. “We don’t know what’s going to happen. Let’s take our chances while we can.”

“Our son is with two of them,” hissed Marcus. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Murphy started to try and struggle out of his bonds. Marcus didn’t tell him his own hands were free, so Abby kept quiet as well. She didn’t want to do anything until they’d thought it through properly.

“What if McCreary comes back now and orders us all shot?” said Murphy.

“Why would he do that? Come on! He’s a thief, not a mass murderer.” Abby rubbed her hands which were chafing against her bonds.

“We don’t know what he is. I know you’re scared, Abby, but I think we should take control of the situation.” Murphy looked at her. His eyes were soft, but his face was set hard. He was determined.

“If we got loose somehow, overpowered this guy here, then we could be waiting for McCreary and the big guy and incapacitate them before they even get in the door. That would give you time to get to your house, Kane. Rescue your son.” Indra sat back, satisfied with her idea.

“No way,” said Marcus. “There are too many variables. What’s to stop Newman killing Oliver anyway?”

“What are you lot whispering about?” said McCain as he glanced over at them.

“How we’re going to kill you once this is all over,” said Murphy.

McCain strode over, prodded his gun towards Murphy. “You won’t be alive long enough,” he said. He laughed, and at that moment Murphy lifted his leg and kicked him in the balls. McCain fell heavily to the ground.

“Get on him!” cried Murphy, and he threw himself forward, his hands still tied behind his back, and landed on McCain, knocking the wind out of him.

“John, no!” cried Abby. Oh, what was he doing! This was all going to end badly.  

Marcus freed himself from the last of the restraints and ran towards Murphy and McCain. He got the gun, moved it away from the man.

“You’re free!” said Murphy incredulously. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

“Because I didn’t want you doing something rash like you just have.” Marcus’s voice was hard edged. “If you’ve killed my son by doing this I will bloody well kill you, and slowly.” He undid Murphy’s bonds and handed him the gun. “Don’t shoot him or I’ll shoot you.”

He undid Indra’s bonds, then Abby’s. She hugged him briefly before he moved to Bellamy and Octavia.

Marcus addressed the group. “We don’t have much time now. Whatever happens we’re in this together. We’ll have to overpower McCreary and Kodiak when they come back and then force them to tell Diyoza and Newman to stand down. It’s the only chance we have.”

Indra tied McCain up and gagged him. They stuffed him into the corner of the room behind the door so he wouldn’t be immediately visible when McCreary and Kodiak returned.

“Look for things to use as weapons,” said Marcus. “We only have one gun and I don’t intend to use it unless it’s a last resort. No one is dying today.”

Abby approached Bellamy while they were searching for weapons. “Once we have McCreary and Kodiak restrained, take my car and go to the house. Wait out of sight until I call you. I want my son safe as soon as possible.” She handed him the keys to the Land Rover and the house. “This key opens a door into the utility room. If you hear anything, or you’re worried, you can get in here without anyone seeing you.”

“I’ll take care of it, Abby. Don’t worry.”

“Thanks.” She squeezed Bellamy’s hand and he put the keys in his pocket.

Abby found a pair of scissors and secreted them in her hand, then she joined the others either side of the door. She should tell Marcus what she’d said to Bellamy, but he was busy organising his troops. He’d agree anyway, she was sure. The more options they had the better.

The room fell silent. Abby looked at her watch. It had been ten minutes since McCreary left with Echo. They had five minutes to overpower him and force him to call off Diyoza and Newman before they would take matters into their own hands and kill Oliver and Clarke. Would they really do it? She couldn’t imagine how anyone could point a gun at a child and pull the trigger, but people did. And Newman had had no qualms about doing the first part of that already.

Voices cut through the night outside, and Abby tensed.

“We have to be swift and decisive,” said Marcus, and then he looked at Abby, gave her a reassuring nod. It helped a little. They had to succeed in this; no other outcome was possible.

The door opened and McCreary entered followed by Kodiak. Everything happened so swiftly it seemed like a blur of shouts and moving bodies. Murphy hit McCreary with his gun and the man fell to the ground. Abby and Murphy both jumped on top of him, holding him down.

“What the fuck!” he shouted.

Indra and Sinclair tackled Kodiak and Bellamy got his gun away from him. He went up to McCreary and took his weapon too. He gave the guns to Marcus who gave one to Murphy and pointed the other at McCreary.

“Tie them up,” he said to Bellamy, who did as he asked.

“You’re going to regret this!” bellowed McCreary.

“Perhaps,” said Marcus.

The group dragged the two men into the corner to join McCain. Abby looked at her watch.

“Marcus we only have a couple of minutes.” She pointed to her watch.

Marcus nodded. He stood over McCreary. “You’re going to tell Diyoza and Newman to stand down, or we’re going to kill you.”

Behind Marcus who had his back to the door, Abby saw Bellamy slip out into the night. Good. Hopefully it wouldn’t take him long to get to the house.

McCreary laughed at Marcus. “You haven’t got it in you, nice boy.”

Murphy put his foot on McCreary’s stomach. “This is a school for delinquents. There are no good guys here. We’re capable of anything.”

“Hmm. I can’t see it. There’s no way Marcus and prim little Abby are going to let you hurt us. I’m willing to take my chances.” He grinned at Murphy and Marcus.

Abby was incensed at being called prim. She was anything but! She walked over to McCreary, knelt next to him.

“Oh, nice view,” he said, looking at her breasts and smirking.

She leaned over him, ignoring his remark. “I killed the last person who tried to get in the way of my family, and I’d do it again.” She stared at him, and his eyes searched her face. He frowned.

“It’s true,” said Murphy. “She pushed him off a cliff!”

He said the words proudly. Abby wanted to correct him, because she hadn’t pushed Jackson, he’d fallen, and she hadn’t intended to kill him. It was better if McCreary thought she was capable though.

“Damn!” said McCreary.

Marcus brought the tablet to him. He opened it, clicked on the app. Diyoza’s face came into view.

“Thank God!” she said, “I was beginning to...” She stopped when she saw that McCreary was tied up on the floor. “What the hell?”

“Your boyfriend is going to tell you and Newman to stop,” said Marcus. “If you don’t leave my son alone, get out of my house right now, we’re going to kill him.” He looked expectantly at McCreary.

McCreary was silent.

Abby’s heart rate shot even further through the roof.

“Paxton?” said Diyoza, her voice wobbling.

McCreary remained silent.

Marcus put the gun against his head, cocked it. “Your last chance.”

McCreary grinned. “Kill him!” he said. “Kill the boy!”

“No! screamed Abby and Marcus in unison.

McCreary leered at them. “This is what you get for taking my woman away from me.”

Murphy hit McCreary in the face with the gun and he fell back, groaning. Abby barely registered what was happening in the room, her eyes were on the tablet Marcus was holding.

Newman had his gun in his hand. “Where the fuck are they?” he bellowed. He started to move out of sight of the camera. Marcus put a shaky finger on the controls, moved the camera trying to follow him. The image was blurred because he was moving it too fast. When it slowed, Abby could see Diyoza was waddling after McCain.

“Don’t kill the child,” she said, grabbing onto his arm.

“Don’t be a pussy. We can’t leave witnesses, you know that.” McCain moved out of sight again.

Marcus struggled to move the camera. The view was shaky again. Abby was so scared she could hardly breathe. She put her hand on Marcus’s arm. “Take slow breaths,” she said to him.

He nodded, did as she said. He was getting control of the camera when there was a lot of shouting. Abby could barely make out what the voices were saying.

“Can’t kill...just a child.” That was Diyoza.

“Get off me!” McCain’s angry voice.

There was a loud noise, a couple of gunshots, and Abby screamed. The students were gathered behind them, and they all gasped at the same time. Marcus finally found the scene even though his whole body was shaking and he could barely control his fingers. Two people were lying on the floor. It was Diyoza and Newman.

“Oh, God!” cried Abby. “What’s happened?”

Clarke came into view. She knelt beside Diyoza.

“Clarke!” shouted Abby, and the girl looked around, finally finding the tablet Diyoza had been using to communicate with them. “Where’s Oliver? Where’s my baby?”

“He’s fine. He’s fine, don’t worry.” Her voice was shaking. “Newman’s dead. Diyoza’s in a bad way. Oh, God,” she said.

“What is it?”

“There’s fluid everywhere, and a lot of blood.”

“She’s gone into labour. Call an ambulance.”

Diyoza tried to sit up, and Clarke put her hand on her. “Don’t try and sit. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Abby?” said Diyoza.

“I’m here.”

“Save my baby.”

Abby took a sharp breath. Tears sprung to her eyes. “I will. I will. Help is on its way. You’ll both be fine.”

“It’s too late for me.”

“No, it’s not. It’s not. We’re going to do this. Hang in there.” Abby could hear Clarke on the phone, talking to the emergency services. She knew it would be ages before they got to the house. They were miles from anywhere.

“Listen, Charmaine. I want you to breathe slowly, take deep breaths.”

Behind her, Marcus was organising the group. He came and knelt beside Abby. “Give me the car keys. I’m going round to the house.”

“Bellamy has them.”

“Okay, where is he? I need them.”

“He’s at the house, or he should be by now. I told him to go in case there was anything he could do.”

“Fuck!” said Marcus. “How am I supposed to get there now?”

“Take the minibus. Take the students with you.”

“Abby?” said Clarke. “I think the baby’s coming.”

“Okay, sweetheart. Don’t worry. We’ll do this.” Abby turned to Marcus. “Leave me here. Go and find our son.”

“I’m not leaving you alone with those three,” he said, indicating McCreary and the others who were still in the corner.

“Don’t worry,” said a young voice. “I got them covered.”

Abby turned to see Octavia standing in front of the men, a shotgun pointed at them.

“Jesus Christ!” said Marcus, running a hand through his hair. “She’s sixteen!”

“I’ve lived more lives than you, Kane,” said Octavia. “Now fuck off.”

“Go, Marcus. I’m fine.” Abby kissed him, then turned her attention back to Diyoza. “You’ve going to have to deliver this baby, Clarke,” she said.

“Oh, fuck!” said Clarke.

“It won’t be as painful as actually having it, trust me. I’ve been through this.”

“I’m going to be put off sex for life,” said Clarke, and even Diyoza managed a weak smile.

“Okay, let’s do this!” said Abby.


	17. The Beginning of The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby and Marcus deal with the aftermath of McCreary's failed plan

“I’ve got the head! I’ve got the head!” shouted Clarke.

“You’re doing great. Both of you.” Abby watched on the tiny monitor as Clarke knelt between Charmaine’s legs. She couldn’t see as clearly as she would like, but she was worried about Charmaine’s lack of response. She was pushing when Abby asked her to, but it seemed more like it was her body’s natural response than a conscious decision on the woman’s part.

In the background Abby heard a big commotion, and Marcus came into view with Bellamy.

“Abby?” he said.

“I’m here, Marcus. I’m okay. Have you seen Ollie?”

“Yes, he’s fine, he’s perfect. He’s awake but he doesn’t know what’s happening. Sinclair is with him.”

“Oh, thank God.” Abby relaxed a little despite the tension of the current situation. Oliver was safe, and Marcus. She put them out of her mind so she could concentrate on helping Clarke deliver this baby.

“One more push, Charmaine,” she said. “You can do this.”

A mile away on the living room floor of Abby’s home, Charmaine cried out, a cry of such anguish Abby almost thought she could hear it carried over the still air.

Marcus knelt beside her, looked her up and down, then he looked up at the camera. He didn’t say anything, but Abby knew. It wasn’t good for Charmaine. Marcus took her hand.

“Won’t be long before you’re a mummy,” he said, smiling down at the woman. She said something in reply, but Abby couldn’t hear what it was.

“It’s here!” cried Clarke, and she held up the slippery baby. “It’s a girl. Oh, she’s beautiful.”

“Is she breathing?” said Abby, but before Clarke could answer there was a cry from the baby. “Great! Put her on Charmaine’s chest.”

Clarke laid the baby on Charmaine, and Marcus put the woman’s arm across it and held it there. They were all smiling and congratulating each other.

“You need to cut the cord,” Abby shouted to Clarke so she could be heard over the noise.

“How do I do that?” she said, looking at the camera uncertainly.

“I’ll do it,” said Marcus. “I did it for Oliver.”

Abby turned to McCreary. “You have a daughter,” she said.

He couldn’t speak because he was gagged, but he stared at Abby for a long second, and then he nodded before looking away.

“Proud dad,” said Octavia mockingly.

Abby nodded in response, but she thought he probably was, but didn’t want them to see it. She felt sympathy towards him, then she remembered how he’d ordered the death of her son, beaten Charmaine, threatened everyone. She dismissed him from her mind.

Back at the house, Charmaine had rallied enough to sit propped against Marcus. Bellamy was holding a towel to her side.

“Abby?” said Charmaine weakly.

“Shush, don’t try to speak.”

“Look after her.”

Abby’s heart constricted. “You’ll be looking after her yourself soon. The ambulance will be here any minute. Just hang on.”

“I can’t,” she said, and her head slumped against Marcus’s chest.

Marcus laid her on the floor, got beside her and started doing chest compressions. The room became chaotic, and Abby couldn’t tell what was going on. Behind her, the door to the Mess opened and Murphy ran in, followed by Indra.

“The police are on their way,” he shouted.

“Take me home,” said Abby. “I need to get home.”

She left Indra and Octavia guarding the men and ran to her car. It was a long couple of minutes before they pulled into the driveway. An ambulance was parked in front of the house, it’s blue lights illuminating the dark night. Abby leapt out of the car, ran through the open door.

A scene of chaos greeted her. Newman’s body lay next to the patio doors. Charmaine was on the floor surrounded by paramedics. There was a lot of blood near both people. Marcus was standing amidst it all with Clarke, the baby wrapped in a blanket in his arms. Abby rushed to his side.

“How are they both?”

“The baby’s fine. She’s doing great.” Marcus handed her to Abby who took the tiny bundle in her arms.

“She’s perfect,” she said, smiling down at the tiny sleeping face. “Well done, Clarke,” she said, moving toward the girl, kissing her cheek.

“I couldn’t have done it without you. You were amazing.”

Marcus sighed deeply. “It doesn’t look good for Charmaine. I think we lost her five minutes ago but they’re still trying.”

“What happened?” said Abby as she watched the paramedics work on Charmaine.

“I don’t know for sure,” said Marcus. “She’s been shot; they both have,” he said, indicating Newman’s body.

“I was hiding in your utility room,” said Clarke, “and Bellamy came in, scared the shit out of me.” She laughed weakly. “I gave him Oliver and he went to put him in your car. I heard Charmaine and Newman arguing about killing us and then there were a couple of gunshots. I was scared to go and see but I could hear someone moaning so I went out and Newman was dead and Charmaine, well you saw the rest. I guess they shot each other, or the guns went off in the struggle.”

“You were really brave,” said Abby, and Clarke smiled shyly.

“The police are on their way to the caravan park,” said Marcus.

“I know, John said.”

At the mention of Murphy’s name Marcus narrowed his eyes. “This is all his fault,” he said.

“No, it’s not. That’s not fair. It’s McCreary’s fault. All of this is down to him.”

Marcus harrumphed.

“Don’t say that to him, Marcus. Please. He’s a good man at heart.” Abby took Marcus’s hand and stroked the back of it with her thumb.

He looked down at her, sighed, then entwined his fingers into hers.

“Fine,” he said, and he smiled softly.

The baby yawned and they both looked at her. “Remember when Oliver was born,” said Abby. “He was about her size.”

“So tiny.” Marcus stroked the baby’s head gently. “You did an amazing job,” he said to Abby. “Both times.”

They kissed, and then stared at the baby as she pulled different faces, stretched and held her tiny hands in the air. In the background the paramedics started packing their equipment away. A woman came over to Marcus, Abby and Clarke.

“There was nothing we could do,” she said. Tears flowed down Abby’s cheeks, and Clarke sobbed.

Marcus put his arms around them both. “You did everything you could,” he said.

“It wasn’t enough,” cried Abby.

“It was. It was. You saved her daughter.”

“I’ll need to take the baby,” said the paramedic. “We’ll check her out at the hospital.”

“Can I come with you?” said Abby. “She needs someone with her.”

“Yes, okay. We’ll be a couple of minutes packing up.”

Abby handed the baby to the paramedic and turned to Marcus. “Let’s go and see Ollie.”

“He’s in his bedroom,” said Clarke.

Abby ran up the stairs followed by Marcus and Clarke. She opened the door and Oliver was sitting up in bed. Sinclair was perched next to him reading a story.

“Mummy! Daddy!” shouted Oliver, and he tried to untangle himself from the bedclothes.

Marcus swooped in and picked him up, kissing him and squeezing him tight. “Hi, squirrel! What are you doing up so late?” He sat on the bed and Abby sat next to him. Marcus handed Oliver to her and she pressed him to her chest.

“I missed you, baby,” she said, kissing his dark curls, breathing in his warm scent.

“I had a nightmare, but Mr Sinclair played dinosaurs with me.”

“You had another nightmare?” Abby cuddled him closer. She was worried what he was going to say, how much he’d seen. She glanced at Marcus who put his arm around her.

“The big rabbit was chasing me again,” Oliver said, pouting.

“The big rabbit again! He’s such a naughty rabbit,” said Abby. “We need to sort him out.”

“I know! I think Saur will get him.”

“I’m sure he will.” Abby kissed his head. “You need to get some sleep, baby.”

She tucked him back into bed and kissed him, then Marcus kissed him and they stood back looking at their precious son.

“Can Clarke read me a story?” said Oliver with wide eyes.

“One story,” said Marcus. “Then sleep.”

Oliver grinned, and they left him with Clarke.

“Thank you, Sinclair,” said Abby and she hugged him.

“It was a pleasure. I’m glad everything has worked out. It was scary back there.”

“I know. Thank you for everything.”

Sinclair went downstairs and Abby stood with Marcus on the balcony.

“I’d better go with the baby. I don’t want her to be alone, and I want to know what happens to her. Where will they take her?”

“I imagine she’ll stay in the hospital a few days. After that I don’t know.” Marcus kissed Abby’s hair. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep an eye on her.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll have the police to deal with and crime scene techs I suppose.”

“We can’t let Oliver see all that blood tomorrow, Marcus.”

“He won’t. I’ll see what the police say and take it from there. I’ll sort it all out. It will be fine.”

The paramedic appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “We’re ready to leave now, Mrs Kane.”

“Thank you. I’d better go.” She reached up and kissed Marcus long on the lips. “I love you. You were awesome today.”

“I love you too. Keep in touch.”

“I will.”

\---

It was four in the morning when Abby put her key in the lock and opened her front door. She hung up her jacket and walked wearily to the living room. Marcus was lying on the sofa, one hand dangling over the edge. He was snoring softly. Abby looked around the room. It didn’t look as bad as it had when everyone was crowded in here earlier. Marcus had moved the rug so it covered the spot where Charmaine had died, and put a rug from their bedroom over the bloodstain Newman had left. Every other surface had been wiped clean. You wouldn’t know anything had happened there. Tears welled in her eyes like they had been doing most of the night. Would they ever have a house with only happy memories?

She sat in the chair and it creaked. Marcus stirred, opened his eyes and looked at her.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.”

“Clarke’s still here. She’s asleep in the spare room. She’s going to help us with Ollie in the morning, well in a few hours.”

“That’s a good idea.”

Marcus held out his arm to Abby and moved to make room for her to lie next to him on the sofa. She curled herself into him and he wrapped his strong arms around her.

“Everything looks so clean,” Abby said.

“Forensics weren’t here long. As soon as they’d gone I got to work. We’ll have to replace the floorboards.”

“Just like last time,” Abby said, referring to the time Marcus had been beaten and left for dead in their Lancaster house. She sobbed, and Marcus held her closer.

“Shush, shush. I know,” he whispered.

Abby cried for a long time, and Marcus held her, his lips pressing kisses to her hair, his fingers stroking it.

“What happened to McCreary?” she said when she had finally calmed.

“The police took him. They’ll hold him locally overnight and then he’ll be off to Barlinnie tomorrow probably while he awaits trial. He’ll go down for a long time, Abby. There are so many witnesses. He doesn’t stand a chance.”

“I hope so. I hope he rots in hell.”

“How was the baby?”

“Oh, she’s beautiful, Marcus. They let me stay with her while they did the tests and she woke up but didn’t seem phased by any of it. She has big brown eyes and lots of hair. They said she’s fine. A good weight, eight pounds, and she took to the bottle. They’re going to keep her in for a few days just to be sure, make sure she’s thriving.”

“That’s fantastic. You did such a good job. I’m so proud of you.”

“Clarke did all the hard work.”

“She wouldn’t have known what to do without you.” Marcus kissed her cheek. “What will happen to her next?”

“The nurse at the hospital said she’d be fostered while they sort out everything that’s happened, and then she’ll be put on the list for adoption I guess.”

Marcus sniffed. “Diyoza said something to me,” he said quietly.

“What did she say?”

“She said she wanted me to have her. I just nodded because I thought she needed some reassurance, and that seemed to calm her.”

“She said something similar to me. She asked me to look after her.” Abby sat up, looked at Marcus. “Can we do it?”

Marcus sat up too. “Adopt her baby?”

“She’s just going to end up with strangers, Marcus.”

“We’re strangers. We barely knew her mother and she tried to kill us and our son!”

“She saved Oliver. You know she did. She sacrificed herself for him.”

Marcus sighed. “Yes, I know. I know.” He rubbed his eyes. “I thought you didn’t want another child.”

“I didn’t want to give birth again at my age, but this is different.” The more she thought about this the more Abby wanted it. She’d already fallen in love with the child, felt a strong connection to her.

“I don’t even know if we’d be accepted. We’re not on any kind of fostering list.”

“We could look into it, though?” She gave him the wide-eyed look that worked on him ninety percent of the time, although she’d never tried it on anything this huge and potentially disrupting to their lives.

“Let’s talk about it tomorrow; we might feel differently then. It’s been an emotional night and I don’t know about you but I hardly know which way is up.” Marcus stood and offered his hand to Abby who took it, falling into his arms.

They stood together, holding each other tightly. Abby rested her head on his chest. He’d said “WE” might feel differently, so he was already thinking along the same lines as she was. It was crazy, she knew. They would be taking on the child of the man who’d tried to kill them for one thing, but that poor baby was an orphan to all intents and purposes. She had nothing, a terrible start in life, and Abby and Marcus had a lot to give. They would talk tomorrow, or later today as it was nearly dawn, but Abby already knew what they were going to do.

\---

**Five Days Later**

Abby walked through the classroom, checking everything was in place for the exhibition. It was Monday, and they should have held the end of school celebration the previous Friday, but everything was still in chaos, and no one had been in the mood for a party. They’d worked hard over the weekend to get everything prepared and re-invite the guests, hoping some of them could make it. It had taken their minds off what had happened, and Abby had found that sharing the experience with the group was helping her deal with it better than she had with Jackson. The circumstances were different, but the trauma was the same.

“The guests are arriving,” said Marcus as he entered the classroom.

“Oh, good. I think we’re ready.”

“It looks fantastic.” He put his arm around her, kissed her cheek. “Well done.”

“Team effort,” said Abby. “Where’s my baby?” she said, looking for Oliver.

“He’s with Murphy,” said Marcus with a frown.

“Marcus. We talked about this.”

“I know, yes. Anyway, you’re wanted outside,” he said, and he took her hand and led her out of the door and down the steps. The students were standing in a semi-circle waiting for her, all except Echo of course, who was being held on remand on suspicion of theft.

“Are you ready to show off your work?” said Abby.

“In a minute,” said Sinclair. “We’ve got something else to do first.”

Octavia came forward holding an art board that was almost as big as her. “We made this for you while you weren’t looking. It wasn’t easy. You’re a nosey bugger.” She laughed, and then she turned the board around.

Abby gasped. They’d made a collage of the caravan park and Loch Lomond in their different styles, blended together so it worked amazingly well.

“It’s fantastic! Wow. Thank you.” She took it from Octavia and she and Marcus examined it. “Oh, that’s us,” she said to him, “with Oliver.”

“I painted Kane,” said Octavia, looking up at him.

“Very handsome,” Marcus said, and he leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

“You’ve gone red,” said Clarke.

“I have not!”

“We just wanted to say thank you for everything you’ve done for us during the school, and for how great you both were during the crisis,” said Sinclair. “Despite everything, this has been the best experience of my life.”

Tears welled in Abby’s eyes. “Thank you,” she said quietly, and she hugged Sinclair.

Bellamy stepped up. “I enjoyed the class as well. The rest not so much. I’ve had better times.”

“That’s what you get for hanging out with an ice queen like Echo,” said Clarke. “She didn’t care about anybody but herself.”

“And you’d be a better bet would you, princess?” said Bellamy.

“You’re better off alone, Bell, trust me,” said Octavia.

“So wise for one so young,” said Bellamy, ruffling Octavia’s hair.

“Gerroff,” she said, wriggling away from him.

“It has been an experience,” said Indra. “One I would not like to repeat, but nevertheless, I would say overall it was worth it.”

“Thank you,” said Abby with a raised eyebrow.

Indra nodded, as though she’d given the greatest compliment and expected nothing less than thanks. “I’d like to speak with you later, Kane.”

“Later, when the exhibition’s over.”

Clarke came up to Abby, flung her arms around her and hugged her tight. “Thank you for everything. You’ve taught me more than you’ll ever know.”

Abby held her face, stroked the girl’s cheeks with her thumbs. “Just remember you’re one of the good guys. So talented. I’m always here for you.” She kissed Clarke, then put her arm around her and turned to the others. “Let’s get this thing started!”

Abby spent the afternoon talking to guests, trying to find sponsors for the students or commissions for their future work. It went well, better than ever before, partly due to the notoriety they all had after the events of the previous week, but all publicity was good publicity as they say.

She was sitting next to Marcus at the picnic table when Murphy came over with burgers and sausages for them all. He sat opposite them and Oliver clambered on his lap.

“Are we having fingers for tea, Murph?” he said.

“Not today wee man. You’ll have to eat normal sausages like your daddy is.”

“Okay,” said Oliver with a dramatic attempt at rolling his eyes.

Abby laughed. Marcus was quiet.

Murphy cleared his throat. “Erm. Kane. I’m erm, sorry for what happened in the Mess last week. I was hot-headed, and erm, well you were right, it didn’t end well. Sorry.”

“You put everyone’s lives at risk,” said Marcus.

“Marcus,” said Abby, putting her hand on his arm.

“I know.” Murphy hung his head.

“But on reflection, your intentions were good, and you were right as well. He was going to kill us all anyway.”

“Still. She’s dead because of me.”

Marcus put his hand on Murphy’s arm. “No. She made her choice, and it was McCreary who put us all in that situation. He’s the one to blame. Abby made me see that.”

Murphy looked up at Marcus. “Really?”

“Yes, but don’t ever do anything like this again.”

Murphy held his hands out. “You two are the trouble magnates. I’m in danger just working for you.”

“That’s right, you are,” said Marcus, giving him a penetrating look, then he sat back and smiled.

Murphy relaxed. He jiggled Oliver on his knee. “Do you want to play on the swings after you’ve had yer burger?”

“Yes! Can we go now?” Oliver tried to wriggle out of Murphy’s grasp.

“No, not while you’ve got food swishing about in that belly. I’m not mopping up yer puke.”

“John!” said Abby.

Oliver stuck his tongue out at Murphy and made sick noises. Murphy did the same back.

“When are we going home?” said Abby to Marcus, who was shaking his head in despair.

“Not soon enough,” he replied.

\---

Later that night they were sitting on the deck watching the sunset. Oliver was asleep face down on Marcus’s chest having refused to go to bed earlier and then finally succumbed to the inevitable.

“Our last two weeks here are going to be different to what we thought,” said Abby.

“Yes, like the rest of our lives.”

Abby grasped Marcus’s hand and held it between their loungers. “Are you regretting it?”

“I’m trying not to get too excited to be honest,” he said. “We have to pass a lot of tests.”

“Yes, but we will.”

“Hopefully.”

“So you’re excited then, or you want to be?”

“Of course. Can’t you tell?” He turned to her with a poker face and Abby laughed.

“Yes, it’s just in that tell-tale twitch of your left eye.”

“You know me so well.” Marcus grinned at her. “I’ve had to pull a lot of strings to make this happen so quickly, and there’s no guarantee. I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“It’s too late for that. I was in love with her the minute you put her in my arms.”

“I know. Me too.”

“Really?”

“Yes. She looked so much like Oliver did when he was born. I just, I don’t know. My heart went out to her, and then the sight of you with a baby again. It got to me.”

“You always did want another one.”

“And now we might have a little girl.”

“We WILL have a little girl, a daughter.”

“I hope she doesn’t look like McCreary when she grows up.”

Abby snorted, and Oliver stirred. Marcus stroked his back gently.

“What will Ollie make of having a sister?” Marcus said.

“I guess it will be hard. He’s so used to having all our attention. He might be jealous.” Abby looked at her sleeping son, his dark hair sticking up, his arms dangling either side of Marcus’s chest.

“Neither of us know what it’s like to have a sibling.”

“It’s a whole new world for us to fumble through.”

“We did alright last time,” said Marcus stroking Oliver’s hair.

“We did.”

Abby lay back and watched as the sun blazed its orange glow over the horizon. She was going to be a mum again, with sleepless nights and endless nappies. There’d be two of them, fighting over everything, running around the house making noise and not giving her and Marcus a moment’s peace. She couldn’t wait.


	18. Full Circle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby and Marcus have a family day out.

**Six Weeks Later**

“Oh wow! Oh wow!” said Oliver as the lights of Blackpool flickered on and they were all bathed in the red-green glow of a tram as it passed.

“Isn’t it pretty?” said Abby.

The tram lit up like a train went in the other direction and Oliver swivelled to follow it. He looked up at Marcus who was gripping his hand tightly.

“I want to go on that,” he said.

“You’re just like your mum.” Marcus grinned. “You can ride it later; we’ll come back on it.”

They walked slowly along the pavement, enjoying the sights and smells of Blackpool during the Illuminations. It was six years since they’d last been, but nothing much had changed. The lights running up and down the Tower were red and blue instead of red and white, but the other decorations looked the same. It was the same slow-moving queue of red car taillights, same smell of popcorn, candyfloss and doughnuts, same excited looks on young faces. This time one of those excited children was theirs, and they were a family of four instead of two people in the early days of a relationship with infinite possibilities, none of which Abby had ever thought would include two children.

Abby looked down at the baby who was tucked cosily into the pram. “Isobel’s awake,” she said to Marcus.

He looked into the pram and smiled. Oliver grabbed onto the side and jumped up so he could see inside.

“She never does anything,” he said with a pout. “She’s boring.”

Marcus laughed and picked Oliver up so he could see better. “She’ll be doing things soon enough. She’ll want to play with you and you’ll have to show her how to do everything. That’s what big brothers do.”

“She can play with Saur,” said Oliver as he leaned further into the pram and pressed a clumsy kiss to Isobel’s cheek.

“That’s very kind of you, Ollie,” said Abby. “She’ll love that.”

Oliver sighed dramatically. “I’m a good big brother.”

“You are.” Marcus set him down and ruffled his hair, glancing at Abby with amusement.   

They’d been fostering Isobel full time for two weeks and Oliver’s fascination with her had started to wear off now that he’d realised all she did was ‘poop and cry’ in his words. Abby and Marcus’s fascination on the other hand was growing every hour of every day. Isobel had been a dream baby so far: feeding well, sleeping well. Marcus thought it meant she’d be trouble in the future, but they were both enjoying every moment they had with her.

She looked up at Abby now with her large dark eyes and gurgled. Abby smiled at her, stroked her cheek with her finger. “Why are you always so happy?” she said softly.

“She’s a Kane,” said Marcus. “Happiness is in our nature.”

Abby snorted. “Yes, I remember thinking when I met you how smiley and happy you were all the time.”

“Some of us smile on the inside.”

“Daddy is happy,” said Oliver.

“Of course he is, sweetheart. How could he not be when he’s got you?”

Abby took Oliver’s hand and they set off again with him walking between her and Marcus and Abby pushing the pram one-handed. They were heading inevitably towards the arcade she and Marcus had been to last time, the one where he’d won the soft toy for her and it had led eventually to Oliver’s squirrel nickname.

Abby had never been on regular family holidays as a child; her hippy parents had dragged her around cultural sites and various communes now and then, but none of the places had held any significant meaning. She liked the idea of returning to a special place, bringing her children, making shared memories. You couldn’t force people to like what you did, but having shared experiences was what being a family was about. Maybe one day Oliver and Isobel would bring their own children here.

“This is where I won your squirrel for mummy,” said Marcus as they went inside. Oliver was familiar with the story because they’d told it him many times.

“Can I win something for mummy?”

“We can try. There are no guarantees, though,” said Marcus. “You might be disappointed.”

“I want the worm thing,” said Oliver, pointing to a snake toy.

“That’s not going to be easy to get,” sighed Marcus.

“We can do it, daddy!”

Abby took Isobel out of the pram and held her as she watched Marcus cover Oliver’s hands with his, helping him steer the grabber.

“I can’t do it!” said Oliver after his second failed attempt.

“You have to be patient, like when we try and hunt the bugs.” Marcus fed more money into the slot and on their fifth attempt the toy dropped into the chute.

“Amazing!” said Oliver as he reached in and pulled it out, waving it in the air. “I got it!”

“You did. Well done, son.”

Marcus came over to Abby. “That toy just cost me five pounds! Probably selling it in the shops for fifty pence,” he grumbled.

“It was worth it. Look how happy our son is.”

Oliver was stroking the snake, talking to it. He unzipped his backpack and slipped the toy inside.

“I thought you won that for mummy?” said Marcus.

Oliver looked up. “I like it myself, daddy,” he said.

“Fine,” said Marcus, laughter in his voice. “Then you’ll have to buy something for mummy with your pocket money later.”

“Okay.”

Abby and Marcus looked at each other. “God, I love him,” said Marcus, laughing again. “He’s such a joy.”

“He makes me laugh every day.” Isobel started to wriggle in Abby’s arms and was sucking on her finger. Abby checked her watch. “I think it’s time for her feed.”

“Let’s find somewhere to sit then.”

They went outside, across the tram tracks to the promenade where they found a bench. Abby handed Isobel to Marcus while she searched in the changing bag for her ready-made formula.

“How’s my beautiful Bella?” said Marcus, letting the baby suck on his finger. “Bella Bellissima.”

“I don’t know how I lose so many things in this bag,” said Abby.

“Because it’s enormous,” said Marcus. “It’s like the TARDIS.”

“Found it.” Abby opened the small cool bag and took out the bottle. “Do you want to feed her?”

“Might as well now I’ve got her.” Marcus sat Isobel in his arms and gave her the bottle. She sucked on it greedily, making soft noises of contentment. He smiled down at her, his eyes warm and full of love.

Abby watched him. He was so sexy like this, caring for his children, doting on them. She could watch him for hours. When they’d first met it had been a purely physical attraction, and they still had that, but over the years it had morphed into something so deep it was almost painful sometimes the love she felt for him, and Oliver and now Isobel. They’d been through a lot together, more than most people would ever experience, and they were stronger for it.

“I can feel your eyes on me, Mrs Kane,” Marcus said.

“Just checking you’re doing a good job.”

Marcus looked at her, his eyebrow arched. “Is that what you’re doing?”

“Hmm. Well, no I was thinking.”

“Oh, yes?”

“Yes. If we didn’t have two children...”

“The pier is right there.”

“It is.”

“But we do have two children.”

“We do.” Abby sighed.

“No chance right now.”

“No. Later, though,” Abby said softly.

“Yeah.” Marcus smiled, and then Isobel burped, and milk dribbled down her chin. “Oops!” He cleaned her up and put her over his shoulder, rubbing her back gently.

“So, birthday boy,” said Abby. “What do you want for your dinner?”

Marcus thought for a moment. “I’d like the chef at The Cromlix to make me his finest wagyu beef suet pudding.”

“That might be hard to do at short notice.”

“I suppose you’re right. I guess fish and chips will have to do then,” he said, pulling a face at Oliver.

“Yay!” shouted Oliver. “Chips!”

“And fish,” said Marcus. “You can’t just eat chips.”

“Shall I go and get them?” said Abby.

“No, I’ll go.” Marcus handed a sleepy Isobel to Abby. “Look after mummy and Bella, Ollie,” he said.

“I will!”

Marcus returned twenty minutes later with their food. He settled Oliver between him and Abby and handed him his small portion. “Look out for seagulls. They’ll try to steal your chips.”

“There’s one looking at us, daddy,” said Oliver, pointing to a mean-looking gull with orange eyes.

“I think that’s the one from last time, the one that stole daddy’s chips.”

“It is not, Marcus! How can it be the same one?”

“It has the same look in its eye.”

“They all look like that.”

Abby ate her fish and watched the gulls as they circled. The food was as good as she remembered it, the batter crispy and the fish soft and fresh.

“Can I give Isobel a chip?” said Oliver, jumping off the bench and going over to the pram.

“She’s too young for things like that,” said Abby. “She can only drink milk.”

“Did I drink milk when I was a baby?”

“You did. Lots of it.”

“I can’t wait til she can play with me,” said Oliver with a sigh.

“A few months and you can get some of your old toys out and show her how to play with them.”

“Okay.” He wandered out in front of them. “I think the seagull is hungry,” he said, and before Abby or Marcus could do anything he threw a handful of chips at the gulls.

“Oliver!” cried Marcus as chaos descended and gulls flew in from all over Blackpool or so it seemed.

“They’re hungry, daddy.”

“Greedy thieves are what they are.” Marcus wrapped up his food and grabbed Oliver. Abby shoved all of Isobel’s things into the tray under the pram and they beat a retreat from the promenade, a flock of seagulls chasing them.

Oliver was screaming with laughter. Marcus was grim-faced. “I’m going to have PTSD after this,” he said, making Abby laugh.

They finally escaped the seagulls when they ran onto the pier. Abby stopped, had to bend double as she tried to get her breath back. “That was hilarious,” she said.

“Don’t encourage him,” said Marcus.

“You and seagulls,” she said between breaths. “You’re fated.”

“What a birthday!” Marcus said.

Abby kissed his salty lips. “You can have a nice dessert later.”

They wandered along the pier, in and out of the amusement arcades. It was getting close to Oliver’s usual bedtime, but he showed no signs of getting tired. Isobel was fast asleep in the pram, and Abby pulled her blanket up, adjusted the woollen hat that was covering her dark hair.

“We ought to get back soon,” she said to Marcus.

“I know. Just a few more minutes.”

“Can I go on that?” said Oliver, pointing at the Ferris Wheel.

“It’s getting late,” said Marcus.

“Oh, but you just said a few more minutes,” said Abby, teasing him because she knew he didn’t like the wheel. It had taken some persuasion to get him on it last time.

“Please, daddy?”

Marcus gave in with a sigh, and Abby sat on a bench rocking the pram and watched as they rose higher and higher into the sky. She could hear Oliver’s screams of delight when they reached the top. Marcus would probably be hanging on to him not the other way around.

Oliver was excited and full of beans when they got off the wheel. Marcus was ashen faced. Abby linked her arm through his. “Let’s find the train tram and make our way back. I think daddy needs a rest.”

They boarded the tram ten minutes later and it was as nondescript on the inside as Abby remembered it. Oliver didn’t care, though. He had his nose pressed to the window, watching everything go by.

“This is the best day EVER!” he said.

“I’m glad, squirrel,” said Marcus who had finally got some colour back in his cheeks. “It was the same for me and your mum when we first met.”

“Marcus!” said Abby softly, surprised at his sudden sentimentality.

“It’s true,” he said. “I knew I was in love with you then.”

“It was the same for me. I was just scared to admit it.”

Abby rested her head against his shoulder, and he kissed her hair. She cradled Isobel in her arms and watched Oliver as he gasped at the lights and the other trams. They were so lucky to have found each other, to have created this world, their family, to have so much love and joy that it balanced out all the bad things that had happened. They were in this together forever, all four of them.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exactly a year ago I started Obsession which was the first part of this story. I didn't know it would grow into a huge fic or that it would spawn a sequel! I've really enjoyed living with these characters for the last year, especially young Oliver, and I hope you have too. It's always sad to say goodbye to a story and I will miss writing it and being in their world, but we have to move on always and find new inspiration and new ideas.
> 
> Thanks to April @KaneMeArse for the original inspiration and all the support and encouragement as always. I wouldn't manage it without you. Happy early birthday again!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has been on the journey with me since the start. I appreciate your support and your feedback as always. Thank you for living in my corner of the world with me for a while. It has been great fun showing you places I love to go and see and stay. Come and see for yourselves one day!


End file.
